JUSTICE LEAGUE INFINITE
by Bennie Stardust
Summary: A mega-crossover anthology series starring characters from all corners of fiction. Heroes from across the multiverse join forces to combat evil, do good, face their own demons, and, if they can, have fun. Season 1: The Mistress (Complete!) Season 2: A New League (in-progress)
1. Season 1 Teaser

Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you,

 **Justice League Infinite**

In just a few weeks, I will upload the first episode of this new anthology series. Episodes will then be posted at a fairly regular rate.

Now, what exactly is _Justice League Infinite?_

It's a mega-crossover series, meaning that characters from any medium of storytelling can show up. Movies, TV shows, books, comics, video games. Hell, I'll even throw somebody from a stage musical here or there

Now, I know that I'm not the first person on here to try a mega-crossover. In fact, it's probably one of the most commonly used fanfiction ideas aside from OC-insertion and non-canon romances. I'd like to take a different approach to the mega-crossover, though. Rather than a single extended adventure, there will be "seasons", each with its own ultimate climax. Each season will consist of "episodes"; short stories not unlike installments in a serial.

To avoid overwhelming you guys with a tremendous amount of characters, and to also avoid the series descending into just a maddening list of names flying across the page, each episode will focus on a self-contained crossover. I'll start with just two or three franchises teaming up per episode, and as characters become more established within the ever-expanding world of _Justice League Infinite,_ I'll start doing a few more at a time in the upcoming seasons. Of course, the big team-ups, the Infinity Wars and Identity Crises, if you will, will be saved for season finales.

New characters will appear each season, so if your favorite character doesn't turn up soon, don't worry; I have big plans for their epic introduction in the not-too-distant future.

I hope to make this series very character-driven, with your favorite heroes and villains learning more about themselves through their interactions with characters they'll probably never meet in any official media. There will be indulging in some cool team-up battles, and no shortage of it, let me assure you. But I'd like to make this series a happy marriage between the most badass and the most thoughtful and compelling possibilities of uniting so many beloved, and some more obscure, characters.

Now, at first I thought I'd just tell you who's going to appear, but I thought that would be predictable and not very fun. So, what I'm going to do instead is leave you hints as to the characters who will be popping up in the form of quotations from those characters. Feel free to speculate in the reviews section, and let me know who you're excited to see, and who you're excited to see them interact with. Oh, and these quotations may or may not be listed in the order that the characters will appear in. That's all I'll say.

 _"I know mine's the best, but let's hear yours, anyway,"_

 _"There are other ways to see,"_

 _"I have seen shit that would turn you white,"_

 _"It's a trick. Get an ax,"_

 _"You know, in a dog show, you'd definitely take first place,"_

 _"You have that power, too,"_

 _"I say, what a wonderful butler, he's so violent,"_

 _"I miss my cupcake,"_

 _"You want to talk to God? Let's go see him together. I've got nothing better to do,"_

 _"Grand entrances are always impractical, that's what makes them grand,"_

 _"You took a hooker to church?"_

 _"You dangerous mute lunatic,"_

 _"My name is Darth Vader. I am an extraterrestrial from the planet Vulcan,"_

 _"Genius doesn't work on an assembly line basis,"_

 _"If this is all a dream, don't wake me up,"_

 _"Establish a recon post downstairs. Code Red. You know what to do,"_

 _"All this for a loaf of bread?"_

 _"Let's get down to business!"_

 _"But we are good at multiplying,"_

 _"It's little and broken, but still good,"_

 _"Well, I think Dad has made some excellent progress today, but I think it's time we wind down now."_

 _"He flies into the fog like a vulture in the sky!"_

 _"Now, shall you deal with me, O Prince, and all the powers of Hell!"_

That's all I have to say for now. Season 1, Episode 1 will be out in a few weeks. See you then.


	2. S1E1: Laughter

**Season 1, Episode 1:**

 _ **Laughter**_

 **I**

The night air was chilly. It reeked of smoke from cigarettes and taxis. Car horns, truck engines, shouts, and whispers echoed to the rooftops.

Even with the filthy orchestra blaring in his cowl-covered ears, Matt could still hear every _thwip._ He could also hear his friend's heart thumping like a jackhammer in spite of his words.

"I don't know which I hate more; people who put up their Christmas lights too early, or people who keep wearing their costumes after Halloween,"

"Personally, I'm taking more grievances with the latter at the moment," Matt replied, leaping a building gap that had long ago been tattooed onto his memory.

He found Peter's sense of humor childish, but felt a welcoming relief in it. Having heard more than enough of Jessica's attitude, Marc's obsessing, and Frank's grit for a dozen lifetimes in only the last few weeks, a little humor helped Matt maintain his optimism. It also helped him relax as he and Peter, the lawyer and the photographer, Daredevil and the Amazing Spider-Man, dived into a gaggle of warring pumpkin-heads and clown-masks for the fourth time that evening.

"You see Osborn around, hornhead?" Spider-Man asked. "You know what I mean." There were two skyrocketing pulses, which plummeted suddenly after a collective cry; Spider-Man had clunked their heads together.

"No. Nothing," Daredevil answered. He smacked a taser out of a hand with one of his billy clubs, then roundhouse kicked his opponent into the wall beside the ATM they had been targeting.

"What about the leader of these clown guys?"

"No." The Man Without Fear leaped into the air, making a perfect split and knocking out a clown and a pumpkin-head.

"Don't see why you guys should fight," Spidey addressed the criminals. "You've got lots in common. You're all great at getting your asses kicked!"

Daredevil grasped the jaw of a charging clown, then turned him around and slammed him against the locked bank door.

"Don't suppose you know where a certain Green Goblin is?" The Devil of Hell's Kitchen growled through his teeth.  
"Or perhaps the new player in town? This 'Joker' character?"

"I-I-I swear I don't know!" The clown spat, his voice betraying the hollow grin on his plastic mask.

Daredevil drew his billy club back, and tightened his grip on the clown's jaw.

" _Th-Th-The Joker comes to us! I swear!"_

Matt felt the vibrations of the clown's gloved hands desperately prying at his outstretched arm. Were it not for his enhanced senses, he likely would not have felt him at all.

Daredevil threw the clown onto the sidewalk.

" _I'm telling the truth, man!"_

"I believe you." Matt slammed his billy club down on the clown's skull.

Amidst the descending pulses as the gang members were either beaten into submission or knocked unconscious, Daredevil could hear several clusters of more excited pulses from further away. He could also hear cheers harmonizing with them.

" _Go, Spidey!"_

" _Get 'em, Double-D!"_

" _Jameson's full 'a shit!"_

" _You guys are the real Avengers!"_

Matt smiled as he struck one last clown with the end of his billy club.

"What the hell is Norman up to that he can't come out and play with us himself?" Peter asked as he webbed two pumpkin-heads to the wall beside the ATM.  
"And why do he and this Joker, whoever he is, leave their cronies to fight for them. Well, I use 'fight' loosely…"

"Aw, you're not enjoying the party, Spider-Man?!" A twisted, mocking voice whined like some demented cartoon character from across the street.

Matt heard the voice's owner's pulse; a steady one that had blended with those of the cheering spectators and the nocturnal passers-by. There was a vehement flap, undoubtedly a coat being thrown off, and then an orchestra of screams, fleeing footsteps, and accelerating heartbeats.

"Look at that!" The Green Goblin cackled. "Kids sneak into the R-rated flicks, then run out screaming once it gets _gorey!"_

Daredevil heard a click, and then a series of quickening beeps flying through the air above the Goblin.

" _No!"_ Peter exclaimed.

The two vigilantes charged forth.

"I'll keep Osborn busy!" Daredevil declared. "You take care of the grenade!"

"Way ahead of you!"

 _Thwip._

Matt heard Spider-Man's pulse soaring above him and the beeping getting faster and faster.

Daredevil ran for the Goblin, and could not help but be disturbed by the villain's heartbeat. Even the likes of Wilson Fisk, Bullseye, and Typhoid Mary had higher heart rates in the heat of a battle. Matt wondered how much of this eerie stolidity was the globulin green formula, and how much was the already-twisted mind of Norman Osborn.

There was a roar like a mechanical beast charging from behind Daredevil; this must be the glider Peter had told him about. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen leaped onto the groaning glider, and the Green Goblin joined him. Daredevil blocked a punch as they zipped above the rooftops.

There was a bang and a hot vibration a few feet away; Peter had thrown the pumpkin bomb high out of the range of any civilians, but only barely out of the range of the twisting, turning glider.

"Oh, crap! You okay, hornhead?!"

"I'll be better in a second! Just give me a hand!"

Daredevil aimed right hook at the Goblin's rubber-masked jaw, and received an elbow in the nose for his troubles.

He felt Spidey land behind the Goblin, but did not feel the glider dip even slightly at the added weight.

 _This thing could give Stark a run for his money,_ Daredevil thought.

"I didn't realize you boys were into this type of thing," The Goblin sneered as Spider-Man grabbed him in a bear hug.

Daredevil punched Osborn square in his pointed, rubbery nose, but it seemed to do little more than wipe away his ghastly grin for a moment. Matt could not see it, but he could feel its gaze, its chill, its mocking immortality.

The Goblin retaliated with a kick to Daredevil's gut that sent the Man Without Fear plummeting to the smoke-scented street below.

For a few seconds, Matt's body was on fire. The pavement crept up behind him like a falcon closing in on a soaring dove. He was blind, _completely_ blind, for only those few seconds.

Then he reached out and grasped the frigid metal of a street lamp. He used the momentum from the fall to swing himself up, and then perched like a crimson gargoyle.

He listened, and found Peter and Osborn again instantly. This time, however, the mechanical groan was replaced by a rambunctious buzzing, and Daredevil heard both of the glider's passengers' pulses accelerate as the glider spun down towards the street.

Matt heard another _thwip_ as Peter swung clear of the crash. He also heard the Goblin's boots landing gracefully on the pavement moments after the glider's screeching skid.

Daredevil listened closer, and found another new pulse. This one was the opposite of Osborn's; it was speedy like a basketball being dribbled by an unstoppable athlete, and anxious like a child in bed on Christmas Eve. Daredevil had heard a few heartbeats like this before; Bullseye, Typhoid Mary. But this strange person, if it _was_ a person, was somehow different, somehow worse than any of the others.

The Man Without Fear was filled with a sickening sense of terror.

"You gotta get your own material, compadre!" The heartbeat's owner spoke with a malevolent rasp, like a clown laughing while gargling blood.  
"Just because you turn the skin green and hop on a flying tray doesn't mean that you're not blatantly plagiarizing my schtick!"

"You!" Osborn growled. "You're one to talk! You think you invented the scary clown gimmick?! You're almost as bad as Kingsley!"

Matt heard a threatening click; another pumpkin bomb.

"And you'll find that I'm so much more than a man on a flying tray." The Goblin darted forth, hurling his projectile straight at the Joker.

From his vantage point, Matt could smell the humidity of colored smoke. This bomb was not deadly, but the Goblin's ensuing attack on the Joker was very much so. Two hooks were followed by a backflip kick, which put the Joker in mid-air. A leaping back kick sent the clown hurtling into a parked car, which began honking repeatedly while sprinkling glass shards onto the Joker's suit.

"Call me crazy…" Spider-Man said, landing beside Daredevil, who could feel the resulting vibrations through the metal pole.  
"But if it weren't for all those pesky things like public safety, I'd probably just let them kill each other,"

Matt felt tempted by the idea, but he knew that it wouldn't be long before the Joker and Osborn grew tired of fighting, and instead decided to see who could kill more innocent civilians. Or more costumed vigilantes.

"You have more experience with the Goblin," Daredevil said. "You focus on him. This Joker, crazy as he is, seems like just a guy with a gun. My specialty,"

"Whatever you say, hornhead,"

The two heroes leaped at the two feuding criminals. Spider-Man landed on the Goblin's shoulders, then webbed up his eyes as he swiped blindly up at his opponent.

" _Yee-haw!"_

Daredevil brought his billy club down on the Joker's jaw as he landed. He followed through with an upward strike with the club in his opposite hand.

"All these comedians, and not a single original joke to be found!" The clown spat, rubbing his jaw.  
"What's your handle, then? Red Batman? Batman Sans Cape?"

Before Matt could even try to understand, he heard a powerful engine screaming like the groan of a ravenous beast. He felt it through the pavement like an oncoming stampede.

Daredevil grabbed the Joker and bounded towards the sidewalk, moments before the thundering vehicle screeched to a halt right where they had been standing.

"And here's the guest of honor, ladies and germs!" The Joker cheered, and then his voice dropped to a malevolent, raspy snarl, like that of a gremlin.  
"Careful, devil boy. Ol' Batsy doesn't like the other kids playing with his favorite toy,"

Matt stood his ground, keeping hold of the Joker, and ready for whatever would emerge from this demon of a vehicle.

 _Whoosh._

There was a cape-flapping sound that Daredevil knew well from the likes of Thor, Scarlet Witch, Storm, and Moon Knight, but even with his enhanced senses, this cape's sound was much softer than any of those others. The man, or creature, or thing that landed in front of Matt landed with expert silence; the Man Without Fear sensed him purely by the flapping cape and the faint but bitter scent of paint on metal armor.

Steps away, Spider-Man continued duelling his nemesis, ducking and dodging bolts of electricity while shooting web lines at any glove, boot, or mask that he could get a clear shot at.

The man from the monstrous car drew a device that clicked and then fired a wirey zipping noise. There was another click as something that sounded like a metal hook caught something, and then Matt heard the Goblin grunt as he was yanked backwards, dragged across the pavement, and then caught in the armored gloves of this mysterious new vigilante.

"Hey, come on, man!" Peter shouted. "It ain't right to steal another guy's villain!"

"Hand him over!" The thing ordered Daredevil, who heard a rubbery rip as the Goblin's mask was torn from his face.

"You insolent cretin!" Norman Osborn spat, his voice descending from an elfish cackle to the berating of a powerful and wealthy man.  
"Do you know who you're-" Another clicking device silenced him. There was a mechanical hiss, and then Matt heard the Goblin's pulse drop exponentially.

"I won't ask again," The thing pressed.

"Are you friend or foe?" Matt questioned, holding the Joker's neck under his arm as the other vigilante held Osborn.

The clown's low but childish snicker nearly drowned out all other sounds.

"That all depends on whether or not you do as I say,"

"Now, now, kiddies," the Joker snarled gleefully. "You can both have a turn with your new toy- _Ack!"_

Before Daredevil could move, the zipping hook was coming his way. It clamped onto the Joker's face, offering Matt some minor relief as the haunting giggle was finally silenced. The clown was yanked out of Daredevil's arms with force that reminded him disturbingly of the Kingpin. Then there was a sound which Matt recognized as that of an elbow striking a skull, and the Joker's heartbeat, like his laughter, grew quiet.

"I don't have time for this!" The thing growled.

There was a mechanical whirr, the ruffling of two bodies being shoved into something like a car seat or trunk, another whirr, and then the heartbeats stopped. Daredevil knew they were still there; they were inside the demonic vehicle, which, to both his shock and curiosity, was soundproof.

The almost inaudible cape flapped again, and then the vehicle roared back to life. Matt and Peter ran after it, but it was already a block away after their first step.

"Aw, that's alright," Spider-Man yelled after the car. Daredevil heard his web shooter _click_ instead of _thwip_ as the vehicle shrank into the distance.  
"We'll call you!"

"You got a tracer on him?" Matt asked.

"Yeah. I'll follow up on our new friend later," Peter answered. Matt heard fabric rustling as his friend lifted his glove to check the quantity of his web fluid.  
"I'd say it's nice to finally have Norman _and_ that Joker guy dealt with, but you know what? I can't shake the feeling that Count Dracula back there was in cahoots with them, faking their capture so they can plan something big without pesky pests like us on their asses,"

"I have the same suspicion," Matt replied.

"Don't suppose his heartbeat told you anything?"

Daredevil said nothing. He faced the distance where he had last heard the beastly roar of the thing's vehicle, felt the heat and smelled the fuel of its thrusters in the moment it was near him. He did not want to tell Peter about the thing's heartbeat, about how it concerned him much more than the relaxation of Norman Osborn's or the speed of the Joker's.

He could not hear the thing's heart.

 **II**

 _Dear Mr. Mudock and Mr. Nelson,_

"Nelson and Murdock, please hold…"

 _I wanted to thank you again for everything you've done for me._

"Nelson and Murdock, with you in a sec…"

 _After my accident I was scared that nobody would help me. I thought they'd just say it was my fault._

"Nelson and Murdock, one moment please…"

 _But you showed me that I have more friends than I think, and for that I can't thank you enough._

"Nelson and Murdock, how can I help you?"

 _I'll send you guys my payment next week when I get paid. Keep doing what you're doing. There's lots more people out there like me who need your help._

"I'm sorry, we're all booked up today and tomorrow, but we can squeeze you in on Thursday,"

 _See you around. Signed, Phillip._

"Would Friday work, then?"

Matt did his best to drown out Foggy and the telephones as he ran his fingers along the braille letter. Doing so was hard enough while blind, with audio being one's primary perception of the world alongside touch, but when one also had radioactively enhanced hearing, the difficulty was doubled.

He had done this enough to be used to it, just as he had grown used to the smell of smoke in the streets and the sensation of being stabbed.

Though the boisterous bustling of Nelson and Murdock's Law Offices filled Matt with anxiety, the words under his fingers brought him an oasis of comfort. He smiled, and decided he had looked at enough paperwork from now, and got up from his desk to go help Foggy with the callers.

A phone buzzed just as he sat up, but it wasn't one that Foggy was juggling. It was Matt's cell phone. He pulled it out, and listened to the bland, unengaged voice of the text-to-speech program.

" _Peter. 1007 Mountain Drive, Gotham City,"_ The phone said in perhaps the worst impression of Peter Parker that could ever exist. Another buzz.  
" _Peter. Huge place. Rich guy. Thinking Dracula really in cahoots w/ Osborn and Joker,"_

Matt initially thought about letting Peter handle it himself. It was _his_ nemesis after all; Daredevil had mainly helped deal with the warring gangs out of heroic duty. And he had responsibilities as Matthew Murdock, as well. Then he remembered the caped thing in the monstrous car, and its speed and its powerful hook and its armor so thick it did not even release a single heartbeat. The Green Goblin was already dangerous enough by himself, as Daredevil had recently discovered first-hand. But with this thing by his side, Spider-Man barely had a chance.

And Matt knew that Peter would do the same for him.

"On my way," He said into the phone before sliding it back into his pocket. He reached under his desk to retrieve his walking stick and his briefcase, containing everything he needed for work; papers, contracts, statements, billy clubs, costume, cowl.

No sooner had he stood back up did his phone buzz again.

" _Peter. Take the train,"_

Another buzz.

" _Peter. I'll try to save some for you,"_

Matt chuckled as he passed Foggy's desk.

"I'm gonna go visit some clients," He said, patting his old friend on the shoulder. "You okay to hold down the fort?"

"Don't worry about it," Foggy replied, his voice rising immediately from a breathless drone to a friendly chirp.  
"I'll just be here breaking the world record for most simultaneous phone conversations,"

Matt laughed again as he left the office, hearing the ringing and the repetition of, "Nelson and Murdock," until he was down the stairs and out the door.

 **III**

Matt thought that it would have been nice of Peter to mention that Gotham was in New Jersey.

That wasn't all that was strange about the caped thing's address. Matt wondered why he had never heard of the city before. Though his life was filled with concerns infinitely greater than the names of cities in New Jersey, he was still bothered by the complete absence of any memory of even a passing mention of the name Gotham.

When Matt transferred from train to taxi, he discovered that it wasn't just the city he was unfamiliar with. When he told the driver his destination, he was met with intrigue at why someone "like him" was going to visit "the big billionaire" Bruce Wayne. All Matt had said was that he had some questions for a case. After all, that was the truth. More or less.

When he was finally dropped off at 1007 Mountain Drive, Matt almost thought that the cabbie had played some kind of prank on him. He walked for at least two minutes, drumming his walking stick along the pavement (which he couldn't help but notice was considerably less cracked than the rest of the city.), until he finally found a bottom step.

"You like to make sure people get their exercise, don't you, Mr. Wayne?" Matt muttered as he ascended to the door.

He went to knock, and his fist hit a handle of cold metal; one of those old door-knockers.

Perhaps Count Dracula was more than Peter's nickname for the caped thing, this Bruce Wayne.

 _Knock-knock-knock._

It wouldn't have taken enhanced hearing to hear that even from the deepest room. Matt thought that Foggy had heard it back at the office.

He heard footsteps. Hasty footsteps. The door creaked open, and Matt was greeted by a quick and unnerved pulse beneath the old voice of a calm Englishman.

"Good afternoon," He said.

Matt smiled. If it weren't for the pulse, this man would be a phenomenal liar. He was clearly putting up a front for his boss, who was most definitely contending with Spider-Man somewhere in the innermost sanctums of the manor. All Matt had to do was keep up the guise of the investigating lawyer until he could find his friend.

"You must be the devil chap," The man added, still sounding calm in spite of his heartbeat.

Matt's smile vanished. In all of either of his careers as lawyer or vigilante, he had never been silenced so swiftly. As he stood there at the steps of the gothic manner, this stoic Englishman's words echoing in his ears, he felt not only blind, but mute.

"Master Bruce told me about your encounter last night," The man continued. "Why don't you come in? Your arrival, as it happens, is most convenient,"

"Tell me where my friend is first," Matt said, now feeling very much like the man in front of him as he controlled his own disposition.

"Your spider friend is downstairs," The Englishman answered. "Working alongside Master Bruce to fend off the Joker and some new goblin menace,"

"Well…" Matt said. "That sounds about right." He entered.

The end of his cane echoed against the marble floor.

"You'll forgive my being blunt, I hope," The man said.

The creaking of a shutting door was followed by a click which Matt recognized as that made by a shotgun. He almost spun around to defend himself, but he did not hear anymore clicks besides the one the weapon made when being picked up.

"But having the likes of the Joker in the cave is a serious infestation," The Englishman continued. "And I should like to be rid of it as soon as possible,"

"Don't worry about it, Mr…?"

"Alfred Pennyworth," The man answered. "But we may save the formalities until the matter at hand has been dealt with. I trust that you've brought your uniform,"

Matt lifted his case.

"I shall allow you a minute to 'suit up', as they say,"

"Thank you, Alfred," Matt replied. Alfred's calmness was contagious; Matt found himself almost forgetting that Peter was trapped somewhere within this enormous building battling both the Joker and the Green Goblin. Or, rather, he found himself almost forgetting that he should be worried about it, that it was a danger and not an everyday occurrence.

Matt wondered, then, if this was not worthy of Alfred Pennyworth's utmost panic, what was?

"You said something about a cave?"

 **IV**

The cold, damp air told Daredevil that he was in a cavern. The quiet clank of the steel beneath his boots told him that he was in a facility.

As he descended the metallic steps down to the hidden lair of what Alfred called 'the Batman', he still heard the butler's anxious pulse alongside the soft clicking of his shotgun.

Daredevil expected to hear the sounds of battle. The _thwip_ of Spider-Man's webbing, blasting gunshots, the bursts of pumpkin bombs, the maniacal and haunting laughter of the Joker and the Green Goblin. But there wasn't so much as one of Peter's sarcastic comments.

All he heard was heartbeats. Excruciatingly fast heartbeats.

"What's happened?" Alfred whispered. "When I was last in here, just a few minutes ago, it was chaos,"

"They're still here," Daredevil replied, slowing his pace. Alfred did likewise.  
"I can hear them...Spider-Man, Bruce Wayne...The Goblin, the Joker…"

There was another heartbeat behind them.

"Alfred-"

Something struck Alfred. Daredevil heard him falling against the metal railing. The thing landed in front of the Man Without Fear, but before he could attack, something like cold steam was sprayed into his face.

The damp aroma of the cavern became chilly. Coarse. Sweaty.

"Put 'em up, son!"

Matt was pelted across the jaw by something firm and rubbery. A boxing glove.

He stood right back up, his mind reeling with panic and denial. Please, God, let it be anyone else. Anything else.

Another blow. Not just any boxing glove.

"Come on, Matty! I know you can do better! I've _seen_ you do better!"

"...Dad?"

"All that trainin' with Stick, all those trials against the Hand," This, without a doubt, was the haggered yet determined voice of Battlin' Jack Murdock; a voice Matt had not heard for twenty seven years.  
"A little guy like me should be easy pickings for you. The big bad Devil of Hell's Kitchen,"

"No...No, this can't be real," Matt said. "You're dead. I _know_ you're dead!"

Another punch, right in the cheek. No boxing glove this time, but the fist was so big that a glove would have been redundant. A ring hit a tooth through Matt's cheek, and immediately he recognized that familiar and condescending sting.

Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin.

"Did that feel real, Matty?" Battlin' Jack shouted.

"Fisk…" Matt coughed. "I know that's you!" He didn't know how the Kingpin could possibly have entered the Batcave, or how he was mimicking his father's voice, but he knew that he was. He must be.

He must be.

"Fisk's still in jail, son, right where you left him," Battlin' Jack replied. "It's just you and me. Father and son,"

Matt was struck again, this time by a leather glove he knew all too well from Frank Castle, the Punisher.

What shocked and terrified him, though, was that this fist, like Fisk's and his father's just before, had been a right one. Matt considered that it was simply multiple right-handed assailants, but he could only hear one heart pounding away in front of him.

"Come on, now! Put your fists up! I won my last fight for you, Matty! You damn well better win this one for me!"

The next punch came as quick as a bullet, and its haunting speed reminded Matt of the chilling precision of Bullseye.

"Deny it all you want, son, but this is _real_ , whether you like it or not!"

Matt was struck by a four-hit combo; two hooks and two uppercuts. Bullseye, Punisher, Kingpin, Battlin' Jack. He was on his back. Before he could get up, he was pinned down with something sharp at his throat. It felt like a knife, but considering what everything else felt like, it could just as easily have been a dragon's claw.

"Disappointing, Matty," Battlin' Jack said through his teeth as Daredevil struggled against his Fisk, Castle, Bullseye-esque hands.  
"But then I was always a disappointment to you, wasn't I? So I guess this makes us even,"

Matt pried at the hands with all his might. Whatever was holding him down, the sharp thing at his adam's apple was definitely real. His senses were overwhelmed with the smell of boxing ring sweat, the smoothness of a well-pressed suit, the repugnant smoke from gunfire and grenades and flamethrowers and rocket launchers, the chill of sharpened steel, and the pounding of an exhilarated heart.

The heartbeat.

That had to be real. Even if all the other sensations were false, there had been a heartbeat before, and it had not changed since.

Matt listened, listened for his life.

There was a heartbeat. He did not know whose it was, but he knew whose it was not.

It was not Bullseye.

It was not Castle.

It was not Fisk.

It was not Battlin' Jack Murdock.

Daredevil was able to gain enough leverage to bring his elbow into his attacker's jaw. After a firm kick to the gut, he was free.

"I'll hand it to you," He said as he stood up, regaining his breath. "I was almost scared for minute,"

"Oh, but you will be," A voice nothing like Matt's father's growled. It was deep and hoarse and muffled by something like burlap.

"Who are you?" Daredevil questioned. "And what have you done with my friend?"

"I am merely a curious man of science, but many know me as the Scarecrow." The attacker's voice came from down low, as if he were crouching. Matt was beginning to think of this Scarecrow as less of a man and more of a beast.

"Your friend is nearby, as is _my_ dear old friend, the Batman. They are helping me with some critical research while I conduct my own experiment up here…"

There was series of menacing clicks. Knives? No; syringes.

"You are perhaps my most fascinating subject to date. A man without fear...Do not worry; I shall cure you,"

Daredevil felt the Scarecrow charging forth, and raised his fists to defend himself.

 _BLAM!_

The Scarecrow was smothering a scream with his teeth, and the air was tainted with the hot scents of blood and gunpowder.

" _Alfred!"_

"In my defense, sir," Alfred said with all the panic of a man who had just squished a fly. "He _was_ charging at you with every intent to inject you with an even deadlier dose of his dreadful fear toxin. He is also trespassing on private property and threatening a very dear friend of mine. Not to mention the myriad of even more heinous crimes he has committed for many years. Besides, it's only a leg. I could have gotten him in the head, but I did not think you or Master Bruce would approve,"

Daredevil opened his mouth to retort, but said nothing. Alfred seemed to have already responded to any possible argument.

"He's right," Scarecrow sneered, his breathing heavy. "I've come back from much worse than this. Your friends, however…" He laughed softly, as if he were about to deliver a twisted punchline, but he only kept laughing.

There was the thick smell of smoke, and then the Scarecrow's laughter and his relaxed heartbeat were gone.

"We'd best be on our way," Alfred said. "Our friends needs us,"

The butler and the Man Without Fear set off for the depths of the Batcave quicker than they had entered.

Daredevil kept a hand on Alfred's shoulder. He knew that they were in a facility, but he could still smell the sweat of a gymnasium.

 **V**

" _Why did you kill me, Peter?"_

"I'm sorry…"

" _Why didn't you save me, Bruce?"_

"I'm so sorry…"

" _Why did you kill me, Peter?"_

"Oh, God, I'm sorry…"

" _Why didn't you save us, Bruce?"_

"Forgive me…"

The hero of New York and the Dark Knight of Gotham were on their knees, their palms flat against the hull of the Batmobile, doing nothing to defend themselves from the monsters in front of them.

A beast with long blonde hair and the wrinkled face of an old man breathed into Peter's face. Its body was a mess of limbs, some old and thick and others young and slender. They melted into one another like the wax of a melting candle.

" _Why couldn't you save me, Peter…?"_

"I'm sorry, Gwen...I'm sorry, Uncle Ben…"

A creature with three heads hovered menacingly above Bruce. The head in the middle was divided down the middle, one half black-haired and handsome, the other half white-haired and hideously scarred. It was as if parts of two different faces had been sewn together. The other two heads were skulls, coated in the crustiness of long-rotted skin. Their healthiest parts were their cracked red eyeballs, which were like torches branding Bruce's flesh. Its body was a bloodied and ripped red uniform, with a golden letter _R_ on its left side.

" _Why couldn't you save us, Bruce…?"_

"Mother...Father...Harvey...Jason...Forgive me. Please…"

The creatures were each held back by a leash, held by two men like the villainous ringmasters of a nightmarish circus.

One had pitch black skin, with wide white eyes and a humongous jaw home to teeth of the same color. It wore a shirt of green stripes. From its back stemmed a long, pointed tail hovering like a snake homing in on a mouse, as well as a tremendous pair of feathery wings, and a quartet of long, metal tentacles ending in claws that surrounded Peter like a volt of vultures.

The other's face was hidden beneath a black mask with piercing red eyes. It wore a tuxedo, with vines entwining, caressing every limb. It also had a green cape stretching down to the floor, and it gripped a sword in its left hand.

" _Why did you kill me, Peter?"_

" _Why didn't you save us, Bruce?"_

"I'm so sorry…"

The monsters only laughed.

Bruce and Peter only sobbed.

There was a pair of crunching strikes, and the laughter was replaced by grunts.

Peter and Bruce looked up, finding that their oppressors had been knocked to the floor.

The two misshapen beasts looked to the new players, as did the two reduced heroes.

Reed Richards and Diana Prince.

Mr. Fantastic, however, was donning iron armor of crimson and gold, and carried a round shield of red, white, and blue bearing the comforting and inspiring image of a star.

Wonder Woman wore a red uniform with gold gloves and boots, and where Bruce expected to find a sharp and triumphant _W_ , he instead found an equally heroic _S._

 **VI**

Daredevil and Alfred stood back-to-back as the Joker and the Green Goblin stood back up.

Matt kept an ear out for the two creatures still standing over Spider-Man and Batman. One of them was freezing, like a reptile; Matt wondered how it was even alive. The other one, Matt could not tell what it was, but he thought he smelled something like leather in the space under its arms. He was certain it couldn't be possible, that it must be only a remnant of the fear toxin's effects, but he thought that the creature had wings. There was also some kind of electric buzzing emitting from both of their necks.

"Master Bruce keeps antidotes for Crane's fear toxin on reserve," Alfred said, still calm but more vehement than before.  
"If you can hold off these cretins, I can have it dispelled through the ventilation system,"

Do it," Daredevil responded. He felt Alfred break away, and heard the butler's heart hammering as his shoes did likewise against the metal floor.

"Looks like the butler did _you,_ Jester," The Green Goblin snickered as he stood up.

"Oh, come _on,_ Norman!" The Joker spat. "I'd expect better material from you!"

"And I'd expect both of you to get on with it!" Daredevil snapped. "Either give it up or start telling me what you've got planned!"

"Oh, not much planned this time, horny," The clown sneered. "Just some personal biz between us four, with some help from the kind doctor sackface. And, if I may say, it's _very_ rude of you to butt in,"

"So you two have formed a truce?" Daredevil questioned. "Or was the gang war just an act all along? To lure out Spider-Man and Batman and get them right where you wanted?"

"Seems like our local Bram Stoker fan isn't the only detective around here," The Green Goblin said. Daredevil could hear a repeated clicking sound, like a device being tossed up and then caught in Osborn's hand.

"What I don't understand is why you two would work together," The Man Without Fear asked, his hands moving down to his billy clubs.

"Don't get me wrong; you're _made_ for each other, but why would you bother crossing into another city's criminal underworld to help beat another city's hero? _Especially_ if it's a city that I _swear to God I'd never heard of until now!"_

"Well, maybe you're just ignorant, _Litewing_ ," the Joker laughed. "And we could tell you...But honestly, I'm getting a little bored with this act."

There was a beep each from the Joker's and the Goblin's hands, followed by the buzzing of an electric shock. The creatures hovering over Spider-Man and Batman roared in agony, and then lunged at Daredevil.

Matt barely caught each chin as he felt the hot, moist breath from each set of chomping jaws that snapped at his face.

The one in his right hand was rough, like scales. Matt remembered more than once hearing on the news, or from Peter himself, of Spider-Man's many encounters with the unfortunate Dr. Curt Connors' alter ego; an enormous reptilian beast fittingly dubbed the Lizard. Matt was confident that this was the same Lizard whose saliva was now spraying onto his cowl.

In his left hand was a long neck coated in fur. Matt could also hear a leathery flapping from the creature's arms, and felt a breeze with each repetition, confirming his earlier suspicion of wings despite his continued disbelief. The creature also roared with a high-pitched shriek into Matt's face, reminding him of similar, albeit meeker shrieks he had heard from bats in the filthiest alleyways of Hell's Kitchen. If the other was a man transformed into a Lizard, then this man was mutated into a bat. A Man-Bat.

The monsters each grasped one of Daredevil's arms, lifting him up as if preparing him for crucifixion.

Matt smelled the putridity of sewage, humid breath, and beyond that, mint as the first drops of the fear antidote filled the room.

Beyond that, though, were hungry growls, electric buzzes, and hysterical, psychotic laughter.

The Man Without Fear struggled against the crushing claws as the boisterous and suffocating choir around him made him deaf.

" _Langstrom!"_

" _Curt!"_

Something pulled the monsters away, and Daredevil was freed.

"Are you two alright?" He asked, drawing his billy clubs.

"Never better, hornhead!" Spider-Man called from the screeching Man-Bat's back.  
"Now, you relax, batty, okay? I'm gonna get this itchy collar off of ya." Peter strained, as did the buzzing metal around Man-Bat's neck. Another firm yank, and the collar shattered, and the screeching dropped to a relieved breath.

"Get the Joker and the Goblin!" Batman ordered, driving something sharp into the Lizard's collar, silencing the reptile's roars.  
"We'll join you once we're done here!"

"On it!" Daredevil turned to the Green Goblin, knowing he was the more formidable combatant.

There was a relaxed heartbeat in front of him. Behind him, there was a mechanical roar beneath an ecstatic pulse.

Daredevil jumped, landing on the glider with the Joker right beside him. Seconds later, the Green Goblin joined them.

"You feeling snug in there, redsy?" The Joker snickered.

There was the clicking of a switchblade and the buzzing of a taser.

Daredevil blocked each oncoming strike with a swift swing of a billy club. The hits kept coming, and he kept blocking, tiring but keeping his commendable speed up. It was challenging with the speed of the glider coalescing with that of the villains' weapons, but not impossible for the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

The Joker's knife cut through his costume. The Goblin's electrified hand barely singed his cheek. Daredevil fended off these attacks despite their slipping through the cracks of his defense. He moved faster, and went for a strike of his own when he could, but the villains blocked them and attacked more fiercely.

He got an elbow into the Joker's nose. The clown shouted before reverting back to his typical chilling laughter.

"Joke's on you! I've been hit so many times I can't feel my own face anymore!"

Daredevil stopped the Goblin's arm on his billy club, but then Osborn twisted around it and grabbed his throat.

"That was a bit of fun, kitchen boy," The Goblin sneered. "But now we have to get back to work!" With a single shove, Daredevil was sent plummeting to the metal floor.

It occurred to Matt that he had lost track of how high the glider had taken him. He also did not know if he was above metal floor or the dark, empty depths of the cavern below.

He reached out, and found nothing but wind rushing away from him.

He could smell the antidote all around him, and yet his fear was mind shattering.

He was blind.

He reached out and caught nothing.

Truly blind.

Something caught him.

The wind halted and Daredevil gasped all of his breath away.

His legs dangled beneath him. He had been falling for a few seconds, and still it seemed like ground, if there was any ground directly under him, was still a ways away.

Something was clutching his shoulders. Hands? No; _claws._ He could hear a gust of wind on either side of him every other second. He reached up with both hands and touched fur. He was in the clutches of the Man-Bat. Instead of screeching, however, the creature was silent, and its claws threatened to do nothing more than keep the Man Without Fear safely where he was. The buzzing of the electric collar was nowhere to be found. Daredevil sighed with relief; the Man-Bat was on his side.

" _Get off, you stupid beast!"_ The Green Goblin demanded from somewhere in front of Daredevil and Man-Bat.  
" _My glider can't support your weight!"_

" _I told you we should've sprung for Croc!"_ The Joker shouted. " _Same intelligence but much more cooperative!"_

Something was holding onto the glider, making it droop as its mechanical roar became a whine. The Man Without Fear listened and recognized the menacing growl of the Lizard.

Daredevil tapped on Man-Bat's ankle.

"Swing me into them," He said.

The creature made a curt grunt in response.

Daredevil felt his stomach drop as they ascended. For the seconds he was allowed, he relished in that pleasant, almost joyous variation of fear.

Man-Bat swung his legs forwards, throwing the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, who made an _X_ with his billy clubs before breaking it, smacking both distracted villains off of the glider.

Daredevil landed on the hovering machine. He felt the glider rise as the Lizard dropped to the floor, and then he heard a wirey zip and a _thwip_ as the Joker and the Goblin fell to the floor.

" _Wouldja lookit these here varmints a've lassoed!"_ Spider-Man declared in a mock Texan accent.

There was no clanking impact; Daredevil heard the two binded villains grunt as they landed in the arms of their nemeses.

"I'm getting sick of this, Joker!" Batman growled. "I can't have you threatening me in my own home! And I can't have you using my friend as your personal hound!"

"Oh, I know, Batsy! I know _very_ well!" The Joker cackled, and then his voice dropped to a raspy whisper. Even up on the glider, the clown's whisper was like a snake hissing in Daredevil's ear.  
"But what are ya gonna do about it?"

Daredevil could smell smoke, as if everyone in New York had lit a cigarette at the same time.

The Joker laughed.

The Green Goblin laughed.

The two laughs harmonized, like a single demented voice cackling to the sky.

" _Why did you kill me, Peter?"_

" _Why didn't you save us, Bruce?"_

" _Disappointing, Matty!"_

The Scarecrow laughed.

Daredevil stepped back, his senses smothered once again in the sweat and the dampness of a gymnasium. He almost fell off the glider, but was kept upright by a gentle push from the Man-Bat's foot.

He listened for heartbeats. Peter, Bruce, Man-Bat, Lizard, and Alfred walking towards them.

But the Joker, the Goblin, and the Scarecrow were gone.

Daredevil listened to Peter and Bruce's heartbeats. They were speeding, but dropping bit by bit.

As did his own heart.

 **VII**

"So...That was the side effect of your cure for deafness?" Matt asked, leaning against the Batcomputer console before taking a sip of tea.

The Man-Bat nodded, perched on a nearby railing in front of Matt, who heard the creature sip his own tea.

"...You know, I have excellent hearing. _Superhuman_ , actually...Perhaps my DNA would be safer than a bat's?"

The Man-Bat grunted. Matt heard his wing flap in the space in front of his face. His eyes.

"Oh," Matt smiled himself. "Yeah. That's just a trade, isn't it?"

He turned to Peter, who stood right beside the icy form of the Lizard. Despite the chilling presence of Dr. Curt Connors, Matt couldn't help but feel warmed at how close Peter stood to him.

"How did Osborn get a hold of you, Doc?" Peter asked his friend.

"Sssent Ssscarecrow…Found me in sssewers..." The Lizard answered. His voice, to Matt's intrigue, was less discomforting than the Joker's.  
"Fear gasss...Made me see Billy…Gave Ssscarecrow the chanccce to capture me. He already had Dr. Langssstrom. Put collarsss on usss. Let Osssborn and the clown control usss. Made usss come here,"

"This wasn't the first time that poor Dr. Langstrom found his way into the Batcave," Alfred added. Matt heard a clink as the butler picked up the tray with the kettle.  
"Supposedly, the Joker or the Scarecrow found out about this, and used it to their advantage,"

"Alfred contacted me shortly after our encounter last night," Bruce said to Matt. From the direction of his voice, and the constant clicking of computer keys, Matt knew that Bruce was looking at a screen and not at him.  
"I intended to take the Joker and the Goblin straight to Arkham Asylum here in Gotham City. I couldn't risk the Batcave being breached, so I headed back here to deal with Langstrom, Connors, and anyone who had followed them in. My mistake was leaving the Joker and the Goblin unattended in the Batmobile. Turns out it was all an elaborate scheme to get in here and attack me; the gang war to get them captured together by me, and to throw off suspicion of their alliance, and Langstrom and Connors as a distraction so they could get in here,"

"I took the doctors' way in sometime after," Peter continued. "Not sure if they had planned that or not...It's hard to tell with Osborn,"

"There's just one thing I don't understand," Matt began, standing up and approaching Bruce, who still did not look at him.  
"What is this place? This _city?_ I've never heard of this Gotham before,"

"Neither have I," Peter added.

"Nor I," The Lizard said.

"We've never heard of Gotham, and we've never heard of you," Matt lifted a finger from his cup to point at Bruce.  
"And in our line of work, people like you tend to get noticed sooner or later, but clearly you've been at this for ages,"

"The same goes for you," Bruce replied. "Because, while I _have_ heard of New York, I've _never_ heard _any mention_ of you three, or the Avengers, or the X-Men, or the Fantastic Four, or any of the other costumed heroes you've told me about. And yet, I'm still able to pull up an endless amount of news articles and images of them, as if they'd existed all along. And, like you said, my line of work has me meeting each of these unique individuals in turn,"

"Perhaps it's another part of the Joker and the Goblin's plan," Matt suggested. "Or a side effect of the Scarecrow's fear toxin,"

"Perhaps," Bruce said.

There was silence for everyone except Matt, who had a choir of pulses to listen to. None of them were even remotely close to the rates they had reached before, but they were each jogging with anxiety.

Finally, Dr. Connors broke the silence.

"What did the Ssscarecrow make you all ssseee?" He asked. "If you don't mind my asssking…His toxin fassscinates me,"

Another short silence, which Peter volunteered to break.

"I saw some...Old friends. Friends who are gone now,"

"I saw my dad," Matt said. He felt Peter's warm gaze.

"Me too," Bruce replied.

Matt looked to the Batman, knowing that he was now looking at him. His gaze was not warm like Peter's, or burning like Elektra's, or freezing like Bullseye's. It was not a feeling that Matt knew well. The closest comparison he could make was Frank Castle; not the ruthless executioner known as the Punisher, but the scarred and beaten spirit of a man ripped of his humanity. But even that wasn't quite right. He thought about his father, and about the elder Wayne who the Scarecrow had shown to the Batman, the Dark Knight of Gotham City.

Perhaps this gaze was the one Matt would have had if he could see.

Matt opened his mouth to speak, but then he felt something like a fist-sized bullet rip through his back and burst from his chest.

As he screamed, he heard ripping from the others around him, and they harmonized with him.

It was agonizing. It was worse than any beating from the Kingpin, or any stabs or lashes from the Hand. And yet Matt could not smell any blood, nor could he feel any wounds.

" _Are my test subjects ready for phase two of our experiment?"_ The Scarecrow snarled. Matt could not find the source of his voice.

" _That was just a little warm-up, so our new business partner could see if you guys are really worth the effort!"_ The Green Goblin exclaimed. The voices were all around Matt, as if he were trapped in a circle of towering speakers on maximum volume.  
" _Not that you ever need to prove anything to me, Spidey, old friend!"_

" _This is the big one, dearies! I think even you'll get a laugh out of it, Batsy!"_ The Joker cackled. His laugh seemed to be inside Matt's head, battering his eardrums from within.

" _Do not be afraid…"_ A woman's voice, like something out of a fairy tale. It was soft, and it slithered through Matt's ears even slimier than the Joker's laugh. The thundering echo still hammered against Matt's skull.

" _I think you will find the experience to be quite...Exhilarating,"_

Matt turned his head as best as he could, trying to look over his shoulder to see who or what had ripped through him.

He felt hollow, as if something inside of him had been stolen. In its place was only cold.

He turned and saw a figure shrouded in shadow.

He saw a whale crashing into the ocean.

He saw an old man picking wheat in a field.

He saw a comet pass by the stars.

He saw everything.

He felt nothing.

 _ **LAUGHTER,**_ **or** _ **DC x Marvel**_

 **Season 1, Episode 1**

 **NEXT TIME ON** _ **JUSTICE LEAGUE INFINITE!**_

A book of the dead, never meant for the world of the living! A stylish demon hunter on his latest assignment! A half-demon in command of an army of darkness! And a department store clerk with a shotgun and a chainsaw!

Who ya gonna call?!

 _Coming soon!_


	3. S1E2: Demons

**Season 1, Episode 2:**

 _ **Demons**_

 **I**

Spicy pepperoni. Radiant peppers. Glistening cheese. And still piping hot.

Winston Zeddemore encountered many slimy things in his line of work, but this pizza was by far his favorite. He had been thinking about it all day, from the Class 2 in Chinatown to the Class 5 in Central Park. (He hadn't seen a dog _that_ big since Zuul). And now it was here; eight golden slices in front of him, their steam seeming to congratulate him on all the hard work he'd been doing for the Ghostbusters, for New York, and for this plane of existence.

Winston lifted a slice from the box, strands of cheese stretching tantalizingly between the slice and its brothers. He brought it to his mouth, thinking only of how much he deserved this.

 _RRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!_

"Yeah, I _thought_ it was too good to be true," Winston sighed, stuffing the slice into his mouth before darting around the desk to the bunkers by the Ecto-1.

"Where's this one, Janine?" He asked as he threw his grey hazmat suit on.

"At some new department store called S-Mart," Janine answered in her typical dry Brooklyn tone, as if there weren't an alarm blaring from the firehouse to the next block down. There was some paperwork on her desk, but she seemed more focused on a copy of _Snow Crash.  
_ "It's just around the corner from the Sedgewick. Something about a bunch of zombies,"

"Zombies?" Winston shrugged. "I'm sure it's just a Class 3 corporeal spectre or whatever fancy phrase Egon's made up,"

" _Wooooooah!"_

Winston looked up at the fire pole and found Ray sliding down it, his face an amusing mixture of excitement and terror.

"I think that was a full five minutes this time!" Winston cracked, hitting a button on the wall to open the garage door.

"I know!" Ray responded, chipper as ever as he threw on his own uniform. "Business is through the roof!"

"I don't mean to undermine the importance of consistent customer interest, Ray," Egon began, marching up from the downstairs laboratory and taking a slice of Winston's pizza on his way to the Ecto-1.  
"But at this rate, it's likely that it will take me twice as long to finish developing and testing the anti-ectoplasm gear,"

"Oh, that's fine. It's not like we're desperate for it," Ray replied.

"Why don't you stick around and finish that while Ray, Venkman, and I handle some jobs, then?" Winston suggested.

"Because I want to be present in the event that we discover another potential world-ending crisis such as Gozer," Egon answered, dry and direct as ever. He slid his uniform on as if he were donning a tuxedo, holding the pizza in his teeth all the while.

Winston loaded the proton packs into the trunk of the Ecto-1. It was then that the trio realized that their fourth member was not even on his way yet.

" _Venkman!"_ Ray yelled up at the pole. " _Come on, we gotta get going!"_

" _Move your ass, Pete!"_ Winston shouted. " _Or I'll let Ray have shotgun!"_

" _I was on the phone with Dana!"_ Peter retorted as he finally came sliding down. He hurriedly threw on his uniform, but then gave his friends a smug look, as if they were late instead of him.  
"You wouldn't want me to blow off one of our most valued customers, now, would you?"

The other three Ghostbusters rolled their eyes before entering the Ecto-1. Winston was behind the wheel, and soon Peter was beside him.

Janine waved at them briefly before returning to her book, not watching the Ecto-1 speed out of the firehouse, its siren blaring through the city and letting every ghost and demon in New York know that their night was about to get real bad real fast.

She had seen it often enough.

 **II**

Whoever had placed the call, whether it was the manager of the S-Mart or a passer by, they were nowhere to be found.

The Ghostbusters were greeted only by a vast parking lot, ripe with litter but lacking in any cars besides the Ecto-1, and an unlit logo glaring down at them like a vengeful god.

"S-Mart," Peter declared over the slam of his door. "Spirit Mart! Seance Mart! Supernatural Mart! I get the gimmick!"

"PKE readings are off the charts," Egon stated, holding an excitedly beeping meter at arm's length, as if he were about to use it to detonate a bomb inside the shop.  
"Not as high as the likes of Gozer or Vigo, but close. We could be looking at a Class 6 here,"

"And today was such a _breeze_ up 'till now," Winston said with a sarcastic sigh.

"Well, we may as well get started." Ray dropped his cigarette on the pavement, extinguished it with his boot, and breathed deeply.

The quartet retrieved their proton packs from Ecto-1's trunk, and then approached the S-Mart's entrance, their march slowing to a creep as they drew nearer.

The automatic door slid open at their presence, oblivious to its glass being completely shattered.

"Remember, kids," Peter whispered. "Always go through the front door. It's the law,"

The Ghostbusters entered the store, completely dark save for the light of the moon through the broken windows. It was enough to see the grey, almost skeletal figures crowding up the S-Mart as though it were Black Friday. Even if the Ghostbusters couldn't have seen them, they would definitely have heard their screeching groans and smelled their rotted, deathly odor.

"Definitely a Class 6," Egon whispered. "I'd suggest using boson darts,"

"And we each take a quarter of them," Winston added.

"Right. Just remember-"

"Don't cross the streams," The four whispered in unison.

They stepped closer to the moaning horde, their gloves tight around the blasters of their rumbling proton packs.

Then the brute in the center was stabbed through the neck by something even more boisterous than the proton packs would have been.

The creature turned as it stumbled, and through the torrents of pale blood that splashed from its neck, the Ghostbusters saw that the weapon was a chainsaw, eating away at the enormous demon. There was nobody else in sight; the chainsaw seemed to have been thrown.

Then something rode over the creature's back like a ramp; a flatbed cart being ridden by two young men.

One of them wore a navy blue button-up shirt, and had messy black hair and a broad chin, which supported a cocky yet exerted grin. He fired a sawed-off shotgun into the monsters closest to the cart.

Beside him was a man donning a blood red coat that flapped behind him as the cart sped through the undead crowd. A broadsword two thirds of his own height was sheathed on his back in what appeared to be a guitar case. His hair was wavy and white. He dispatched the surrounding undead using dual pistols, which he pointed in every possible direction in a violent and peculiar dance. Arms crossed. Behind his back. Over his head. Sometimes even without looking. He occasionally declared " _Woo,"_ loud enough to be heard over the gunfire.

The Ghostbusters were frozen in astonishment while the two gunslingers zipped around the store on their cart, steering it by shifting their weight. By the time the quartet thought to join in, practically all of the undead were defeated, save for the brute, still on his knees choking on a roaring chainsaw.

The gunslingers leaped off of their cart, letting it crash into the monster's gut. The man with the chin darted forth and grasped the chainsaw's handle, then ripped the bloodied weapon from the brute's thick neck.

The white-haired man ended it with a single bullet, reducing the carnage to the soft clink of a shell hitting the floor.

The partners then clasped hands, and the chinned one said in a grizzled voice, "Groovy."

"Ray," Peter turned to his friend, speaking with teasing irritation.  
"How come that guy gets the stylish red coat while we're stuck in our asbestos pajamas?"

"W-Well, I-I-I can't imagine how that's at all practical," Ray answered, never turning his pale face away from the two demon hunters.  
"It's a wonder if they haven't already been infected by ectoplasm, or worse,"

"Why don't we ask 'em, huh?" Venkman stepped forward, applauding the two gunslingers with a sly grin on his face; the kind that anyone who wasn't friends with Peter Venkman resented. (Although his friends had each resented it on at least one occasion).  
"Wow! What a performance! Love the finale! Could I get your names, please? I'm thinking about hiring you for my nephew's birthday!"

"Name's Ash," The chinned man answered, he and his partner coming to meet their audience.  
"And you don't wanna do that; last birthday party I went to had a pinata come to life and try to eat the kids." He slid his shotgun into a holster on his back, and held the chainsaw down at his left side.

"I'm not in the party business, at least not professionally," The white-haired man said, his voice much more relaxed than anyone who had just slaughtered a horde of the undead had any right to be.  
"Dante of Devil May Cry, demonic eliminations and armory." He bowed, as if he were offering Venkman a dance.  
"And what about you guys, hm? Did our little light show distract you from some late night rat catching?"

The other three Ghostbusters shot Dante a perturbed glare, but Venkman kept his smirk.

"Yep. Big bastard; four rows of teeth and as big as that sword you got there. Bit of a change of pace for us; people usually hire us to catch ghosts. Or _bust_ ghosts, they call it. That's our gimmick; the Ghostbusters. But I gotta say, I like yours better; _Devil May Cry._ Sounds more intense,"

"Ah, so you guys are in the demon hunting business, too?" Dante brushed his coattails back to put his gloved hands in his pockets.  
"Humans?"

"Yeah, we're human," Venkman replied. "Well, most of us. Still not sure about Egon,"

"Wait, wait, hold on just a damn second." Ash got in between them, where the Ghostbusters discovered that his right hand was made of metal.  
"Dante, I thought making money outta fighting demons was _your_ handle. But now _you_ four, full-on plain humans like me, have your own demon fighting business _too?"_

"Essentially, yes," Egon replied, pushing his glasses along his long nose.

"So you're telling me that _all this time,_ I've been fighting Deadites and Mini-Ashes and _flying goddamn books_ for _free_ and I could've been getting _paid_ for it?!"

"Hey, relax, Ashley," Peter patted him on a blood-stained shoulder. "It's all about building up experience. Think of all that as volunteer hours. Your resume must look incredible,"

"Yeah," Ash grumbled, holding up his metal right hand. "Doesn't get me any insurance, though,"

"Mini-Ashes?" Ray repeated.

"So what brings two badasses like yourselves down to New York?" Winston asked. "The zombies, I know, but I'm just wondering why we're meeting you now and not back when a giant marshmallow monster was attacking the city,"

"We're from out of town…" Dante began pacing lazily, looking down at the scattered corpses, which were gradually dissolving into a scarlet dust that drifted into the air.  
"We're looking for somebody who's borrowed Ash's book and is _way_ past his due date. Some pretty boy called Vergil,"

"He's got the Book of the Dead," Ash added.

"The Necronomicon Ex-Mortis," He and Egon harmonized.

"That would explain these creatures," Egon continued, catching some of the floating dust in his fingers, touching it, sniffing it.  
"And the tremendous amount of psycho-kinetic energy they were projecting,"

"They're undead, they're dangerous, and they're pissing me off," Ash said, clenching his metal fist.  
"Don't need a Phd to figure that out,"

"And I'm assuming that this Vergil guy wants to use the Necronomicon to command an army of the undead to destroy all mortals, or bring about the apocalypse, or something in that wheelhouse," Ray said.

"It's always a guy with a pretentious name," Peter muttered. "Why can't the psycho spectre ever be Bill? Or Tom? Or Joe?"

"Well, that's just the trouble with undead armies, isn't it?" Dante shrugged. "You can't really use 'em for anything good, now, can you? I was already on Vergil's trail, Ash was looking for his book; we crossed paths and decided to help each other out. By the way, Ash; you could spice it up a bit more than just pointing and shooting,"

"Hey, I'm just being efficient. Not everyone has gajillion-round devil arm pistols like you, Mister Fancypants,"

"Hey, I'm not bashing efficiency. I just think it's best to be as lively as possible when dealing with the undead…"

There was an excited, buzzing beeping. Dante turned to find Egon pointing his PKE Meter at him.

"Don't you know it's rude to point at people?" He said with a lazy smirk.

"You're emitting a _tremendous_ amount of psycho-kinetic energy," Egon said, as if he had been asked.  
"There's barely any coming off of your friend, but you're burying the needle. You're not human, are you, Dante?"

"A little bit." He lifted his gloved right hand, making a diminutive space between his thumb and his index finger.

"Is this Vergil anything like you?"

"You could say that,"

"...I'd like to run some tests with you back at our lab," Egon said as bluntly as a police officer asking for license and registration. He returned the PKE Meter to his belt.  
"We may be able to find Vergil by sending out a beacon of the PKE you're emitting,"

"Hey, come on, Egon," Venkman nudged him with his elbow. "You can't just talk about another man's PKE like that,"

"That sounds just delightful," Dante said, folding his arms behind his head.

"You guys have your own ride?" Winston asked. "We've only got one more seat in our's, and it's the one cramped in the middle at the back,"

"We can follow you in my Oldsmobile," Ash replied, pointing a metal thumb over his shoulder.  
"It's 'round back. I'll bring it out front,"

"Our's is easy to keep track of," Venkman called as the two demon hunters turned into the fading mist of undead dust.  
"Just look for the cute ghost on the back with the slash through it,"

"One last thing," Winston interjected, and Dante and Ash turned around, each raising an attentive eyebrow.  
"Where'd Vergil get this Book of the Dead from, anyway?"

Ash's brow furrowed, while Dante cracked into a smile on the verge of a giggle.

"Ashley left his attic unlocked." He playfully elbowed his partner before resuming his walk, followed by a grumbling Ashley J. Williams.

 **III**

"I didn't realize you were into this sort of thing, Dr. Spengler," Dante said, drumming his fingers against the arms of his chair as straps were placed on his forearms, a metal helmet covered in wires was placed on his head, and a needle was placed in each side of his chest.

"We're just gonna run a city-wide scan for any kind of psycho-kinetic energy similar to yours," Ray explained, carefully adjusting the helmet's position on Dante's snowy hair.  
"That should let us narrow down an area where we can find Vergil,"

"You seem strangely comfortable, Dante," Egon said, his attention primarily on the computer screens connected via wires to the gadgets he had fitted the demon hunter with.

"More than ever, doc. Nothing gets me relaxed like getting stabbed with pointy things,"

"Are you able to feel pain?"

"Oh, I'm a glutton for it." Dante stretched his arms up to the ceiling, then rested them behind his white hair as he sunk lazily into his seat.  
"Just takes a bit more for it to kick in than it does you guys. A bullet in the head is like a stubbed toe...It really just hurts my feelings." He sarcastically put both gloved hands over his heart and tilted his head.

"You said you were only a little human…" Winston approached them, having just returned from downstairs with the rest of his pizza (which was as delicious as he had hoped despite being lukewarm).

"How is that, exactly?" He asked through a mouthful.

"Nice to hear you asking the right questions, rookie," Peter cracked, taking a slice when offered one as he leaned against the arcade cabinet at the wall.

"Somebody 'round here's gotta," Winston retorted with an unphased shrug as he offered a slice to Ash, who leaned against the other side of the cabinet. He took it with his flesh hand.

"I get that part from my mother," Dante began, taking a slice.

Egon and Ray each took one without looking away from Dante or the computers.

"The demon half comes from my dad…" The demon hunter continued through a mouthful. "Aw, yes, no olives for once...Sparda, or the Legendary Dark Knight if you want to be dramatic. You guys seem like you know your demons; maybe you've heard of him before?"

"Not that I remember," Ray muttered.

"I can check Tobin's Spirit Guide…" Egon typed away, and seconds later pulled up a file with a picture of a man almost identical to the one hooked up to his machines.

He was older and had a patch over his left eye, but his white hair, purple coat, and cocky grin had clearly been passed down to Dante.

"This him?" Ray asked, peering over the file from behind Egon. "Protected the human world from his own kind, sealing them away before watching over the Earth in secret?"

"That's the guy," Dante answered. "Don't know if your pal Tobin knew this, but as caring as he was for you humans, there was one he was _particularly_ fond of named Eva. And the result of that sits before you, hooked up to all your weird gizmos. I didn't know my dad too well, but I _do_ like his idea of protecting humanity, instead of destroying or conquering it like every stick-in-the-mud demonic nutcase I deal with every other week,"

"The only difference being that people pay you for it," Winston said.

"Well, that's the idea," Dante shrugged. "Only problem is I keep having to trim the bill 'cause of property damage,"

"Ooh, yeah, that's a real pain," Venkman said. "Some people just don't appreciate how difficult paranormal elimination is,"

"So if I'm the only one doing this kinda thing for free," Ash said, lifting his metal hand. "Does that mean I get more integrity points?"

"But I have to say, you guys have it down a lot better than I do," Dante said, wolfing down the crust of his short-lived pizza.

"Really?" Winston replied. "Cool guy with the fancy coat and the badass sword. Given the choice, I'd probably pick you. No offense, guys,"

"No worries, Winston," Ray said. "A little market competition isn't too bad,"

"Well, maybe I have the style," Dante began. "But I'm a nearly-immortal half-demon; I kinda _had_ to get into this business. And this sword and all the other devil arms I use…" He patted the hilt of his sword, which sat by his chair in its guitar case.  
"They're all created _by_ demons or half-demons like me. It's a cruel irony, really. But you guys build your _own_ equipment. You don't get your power from your enemies like I do. You're humans fighting demons and spirits totally on your own,"

"You surprised?" Winston smirked.

"No, man, I mean it," The demon hunter retorted, his voice still smooth, but more direct than before.  
"This whole Ghostbusters handle you guys have going on, showing the demon world what humans are capable of...Makes me sure that I've picked the right side in all this,"

"Yeah, well…" Winston shrugged. "Doesn't always pay that well." He chuckled, but deep down, he was warmed by Dante's words; by the notion that, even if the rest of New York saw him and his friends as just another service, there were far greater beings out there who thought so much more of them.

"What about me?" Ash piped up. "I'm as ordinary as these guys! _I've_ fought all kinds of otherworldly jackasses with nothin' but a chainsaw and my good ol' S-Mart model twelve-gauge double-barreled Remington here, and _I_ didn't get no inspiring speech,"

"That's 'cause you keep accidentally summoning zombies with your book," Dante responded, staying relaxed as if to spite the flustered Ash.  
"You lose points for clumsiness,"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ash approached the smirking swordsman, bending down to glare into his face.  
"But it ain't exactly easy! I've tried burning it, burying it, ripping it to pieces, feeding it to a bear, but it always comes back! And I'll bet you anything that no kinda devil arms or whatsit-packs can do much better! So sorry for not being able to pull a goddamn miracle outta my ass!"

Everybody was silent. All eyes were on Ash as the beeping and humming of Egon's computers flooded the room with their soft sound. He stood up, cleared his throat, and scratched his wavy black hair with his flesh hand.

"I…" He coughed again. "I'm real sorry...It's been a long day,"

"I know the feeling," Ray replied. He looked down at Egon, and realized that his friend had not looked away from the screen since pulling up the file on Sparda.  
"Where are we at with the PKE scan, Spengler?"

"...Hm? Sorry, Ray, it's just…" Egon rested a finger on the screen, just beside Sparda's smirking face.  
"You and I are _meticulously_ familiar with Tobin's Guide, and I can't help but feel befuddled at why this Sparda figure is so new to us. Even a glance at the table of contents; the name at least should feel somewhat familiar,"

"So ya haven't read your whole book," Ash said, calmer than before. "That's good, ain't it? Means you're not a _total_ shut-in,"

"Perhaps," Egon muttered. "...But I have this nauseating suspicion that this entry has been snuck in here,"

"Now, why would anybody want to sneak some educational material regarding my father into your computer?" Dante asked, sarcastic but genuinely curious.

"I don't know…" Egon answered, his gaze fixated on the grandiose image of Sparda, the Legendary Dark Knight.

"I'm sure it's a _fascinating_ mystery, Egon." Venkman came up behind him, slapping a hand on each of his shoulders.  
"But if you ask me, half-demon crazies with magic books and armies of the undead are a little higher on the shit-to-do scale than people adding extra parts to your favorite book,"

"For once, Venkman, you're probably right," Egon replied, closing the file. "In any event, the scan's complete...Seems like Vergil is nearby; within three blocks,"

"Then what're we waitin' for?" Ash proclaimed, raising his arms. "Let's go pay him a visit,"

"It'd be best if we split into teams of two," Ray suggested. "We'll find him faster that way,"

"I can tag along with Ashley in his insurance nightmare," Venkman added. "Then whoever sees the guy first can just honk. Wake the neighbours in time to watch the fireworks,"

"Then it looks like it's you and me, Dante," Winston said to the demon hunter, who was already ripping the straps and wires off of himself.

"Well, _I_ was gonna take the rooftops," He said. "But I'd love to see you hop a gap with that heavy gizmo on your back." With that, he turned and dashed for the door to the stairwell, his crimson coat flapping behind him, as if waving teasingly at the others.

"Nice guy," Venkman said.

"Yeah," Winston replied. "And you and him make for the cockiest pair there ever was, Pete,"

 **IV**

Winston felt confident that he could hop a building gap with his proton pack.

As he ascended the stairwell, he thought about whether Dante would be impressed by the feat. It occurred to him, though, that like Venkman, Dante was not the type to eat his words on any occasion.

Then he thought more about what the demon hunter said about the Ghostbusters, and thought that perhaps he didn't need to impress Dante.

Winston pushed the door open, taking in a millisecond of fresh air before the putrid smell of cigarette smoke reached his nostrils.

He heard Dante's smooth voice, speaking with a soft melancholy that Winston had not thought it could muster.

"I really wish you'd call before coming over, brother,"

Winston turned left, finding Dante leaning with arms folded against the concrete ledge, a strangely despondent smile on his face.

He faced a man whose back faced Winston. This figure seemed to be a straightened-out reflection of Dante. His white hair was combed back, pointing at Winston as if pinned down by a harsh wind. His coat was an elegant shade of green, and a slimmer fit than Dante's crimson attire. His hands were behind his back, allowing Winston to see his sword; a katana that touched the floor, and was encased in a black sheath.

"I wish you would invite me, Dante," The man said, his voice a condescending sneer that reminded Winston of a younger version of Walter Peck.  
"I'll soon run out of ways to surprise you,"

Winston stepped forward, his proton blaster at the ready, and took aim at Vergil's head.

His eyes met Dante's for a split second, and then he saw his gloved index finger lift, as if to scratch an itch, but also as if to say, _one moment._

Winston allowed it.

"And I've gotta say, this one has to be your best yet," Dante replied. "How'd you hear about Ashley's book?"

"I was informed by a new friend,"

"Demon?"

"Not exactly," Vergil made a chuckle that was more of a humored grunt.  
"But she has big plans for you, brother, and for your new friends...I still wonder; why do you gravitate towards these creatures? Pitiful beings who either despise our kind or... _profit_ off of making us look like imbeciles,"

"To be fair, you guys help out a lot with that," Dante began. "Vergil, you have this _very_ unhealthy belief that you can't be happy unless you feel like you're above everyone,"

"And what is happiness to you, Dante?" Vergil moved his sword to his front, holding it like a cane.  
"Living in squalor in a rundown shop, working for people weaker than you who won't even pay you what you're owed?"

"Well, nothing's perfect," Dante shrugged. "But we've danced this dance often enough. Every time you think you're right, and every time you lose. Why not shake it up a little and try things my way this time? See what happens,"

"...I can't," Vergil sounded almost heartbroken. "But don't you worry, brother. You will come to see my perspective…"

Dante looked at Winston, and lifted two fingers, making the shape of a pistol.

Winston aimed at Vergil's back, the rumbling of his proton pack harmonizing with the shimmering of the half-demon's unsheathed katana.

"Whether you want to or not,"

Winston's gloved finger had barely touched the trigger when he found a blade tip resting on his adam's apple.

The Ghostbuster looked right into Vergil's stone face; though the clothes and the hair were different, he was looking at Dante's face.

"Is this what you've stooped to, Dante?" Vergil said, lifting his head at Winston, looking right into his eyes, but never addressing him.  
"Letting your human pets do your work for you?"

"I ain't no one's pet, pretty boy," Winston said, trying his hardest not to swallow.  
"And if you think your butter knife even comes close to the scariest thing I've ever seen, then you can keep dreaming, pal,"

Vergil made another humored grunt.

"Is that so?" He sneered. "The sweat on your brow says otherwise. And you will find that Yamato is much more than a mere butter-"

Vergil's arm was suddenly pulled away from Winston's throat.

"This is why people don't like hanging out with you, brother," Dante said, calm as ever as he began unloading one of his pistols into the side of Vergil's head.  
"You talk about yourself too much. It's very narrow and boring conversation." He shoved his brother, now with half a face of bloody, dripping bone structure, aside. To Winston's astonishment, Vergil was still able to catch himself on his hands and knees.  
"Thanks for the assist, Winston,"

"Don't mention it," The Ghostbuster muttered, his attention still on Vergil, whose face seemed to be slowly but surely reforming as he reached into his coat.  
"So...That's your brother?"

"Yeah," Dante replied. "Twin...Sorry I didn't tell you before,"

"Don't worry about it...Honestly, if this guy were _my_ brother, I wouldn't tell people about him, either,"

"I'm right here, you know," Vergil growled, his lips now intact enough for him to speak.  
"And I don't appreciate your manners." He stood up, going from a bleeding mess to a tall and imposing figure in a matter of seconds.

He took something out of his coat; a black hardcover book the size of an encyclopedia. Its cover was wrinkled like aged skin. Winston and Dante saw what appeared to be a screaming face on the cover.

Vergil opened the book, and read in a whisper.

"Khandar estrada thrus indactu...Nosfrandus khandar dematos khandar…"

The words entered Winston's ears like the forked tongue of a snake.

Something dropped from the sky and landed on Dante. It was a colossal decaying creature like the one at S-Mart. It threw the demon hunter aside, and then charged after him.

Winston turned back to Vergil, and found something with gray skin clinging to cracked bones. Its black eyes glared at him as its putrid jaws reached for him.

" _MAN!"_ Winston shouted, taking the thing's head off with a decisive proton blast. As its body faded into scarlet dust, Vergil's sword was already halfway at Winston's chest.

He did not even have time to scream.

The sword stopped, its sleek shimmer overpowered by the roaring of a chainsaw. Sparks flew in front of Winston's eyes.

"Mine's bigger," Ash said through his teeth, smirking at Vergil through the golden dust bouncing off of their grinding blades.

"Pathetic simpleton," Vergil whispered. He pushed harder with Yamato, and received a shotgun blast to the face for his troubles. He stumbled back, one hand clutching Yamato and the other gripping the Necronomicon. He reeled himself back up, glaring at his enemies, Ash Williams and the complete Ghostbusters, with only one intact eye.  
"You mortals and your obsession with firearms…" He spat as the missing quarter of his head regrew.  
"Crude weapons for a crude species,"

"Now that's just uncalled for," Venkman said. "Just for the record, _you_ started all this, twiggy!"

"But we're gonna let you end it real easy…" Ash twirled his shotgun on one flesh finger before pointing it at Vergil.  
"Hand the book over and we'll call it a day. You and Dante can work out your thing, but I just wanna go the hell home. You let me do that, and I won't give you facial reconstructive surgery with my chainsaw-hand,"

"You've gotta admit, that's a _very_ enticing offer," Venkman added, making an _O.K._ symbol with his fingers.

The other Ghostbusters scanned the rooftop, finding Deadites climbing over every ledge. Some fat, some thin, some tall, some with limbs missing, but each one looking at them like an angry mob about to stone a local murderer to death.

"I'm afraid I must decline," Vergil said, holding his sword like a cane in one hand, with the Necronomicon against his chest. Deadites approached from behind him, barely aware of his presence.  
"Someone else has given me a better offer. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've something more important to tend to than you insects." He turned, his coattails waving as if condescendingly at Ash and the Ghostbusters, and strolled in the direction Dante had been thrown.

Suddenly, the brutish Deadite crashed into the stairwell entrance box, with Dante's sword protruding from his bleeding chest. The blade pinned the monster to the wall as the creature evaporated into red mist.

"What do you need an army of the undead for, brother?!" Dante proclaimed, bounding from the next rooftop, over the Deadites bordering the firehouse, and landing on one knee, as if ready to propose. Only Vergil stood between him and his sword.  
"Don't you think you can face me alone?" He drew his pistols and charged at his twin.

The street erupted with the noises of roaring chainsaws, clashing swords, rapid gunfire, buzzing proton beams, and growling Deadites.

"Picking them off is useless!" Egon declared, frying a fat Deadite towering over him.  
"The only way to stop this is to get the Necronomicon!"

"But does anyone even know _how_ to use it?!" Ray questioned, blasting a quick and skinny Deadite sneaking up on Venkman.

"I do," Ash answered, thrusting his chainsaw through a tall Deadite's neck, then resting his shotgun on his shoulder to blast another climbing onto the roof behind him.  
"If we can get it in my hands, I know what to say to get these screwheads to piss off,"

"Then let's get after it!" Winston said.

The quintet charged through the increasing horde of Deadites, zapping and shooting any that came too close.

They soon found the two battling brothers within the crowd. Dante, still separated from his sword, blocked Vergil's sword strikes with his pistols.

The Ghostbusters aimed at Vergil, each one already beginning to relax; this was the end of another job, just like all of them before and all the ones that would come. Had there ever been any doubt?

"I don't think so!" Vergil vanished in a blink of blue light.

"Oh, come on!" Venkman shouted. "Cheater!"

The Ghostbusters felt themselves lifted off the ground; a sensation they had grown used to from the various full roaming vapors they had encountered in their long career. They were each thrown aside, amidst the swarms of groaning Deadites. They stood up, feeling light. Feeling naked.

Vergil had swiped their proton packs.

The moans of the Deadites, their rotted skin, their ancient stench, their pitch black eyes, were all suddenly terrifying.

The Ghostbusters ran, their arms over their heads, feeling for the first time in ages like the college professors fleeing from a ghostly librarian. As Winston averted the hellish gazes of the Deadites, their moans to him became laughter. He kept running straight, but all he knew was a sea of demonic laughter.

When the four finally found the instinct to look up, they found Ash and Vergil, each with a hand on the Necronomicon in an intense tug-of-war. Ash waved his chainsaw blindly behind him, cutting down any Deadites who dared to get close.

"Cockroach," Vergil grunted.

"Jackass," Ash spat.

Dante came up behind them, his sword in the air like a gleaming bolt of lightning, and brought his blade down on Vergil's arm. Ash stumbled back, having won both the Necronomicon and Vergil's right arm, which painted the rooftop a dark red.

" _Dante, you bloodthirsty maniac!"_ Vergil shouted, thrusting his own weapon at his brother, who parried.

"Aw, quit whinin'. At least your's'll grow back." Ash cracked, holding up his chainsaw, which the Ghostbusters saw had been fitted over his metal hand like a glove.  
"Now, let's take care of this…" He pried the severed hand from the book, throwing it into the face of an attacking Deadite before turning to a page somewhere in the middle.  
"Right... _Klaatu! Barada…"_ Ash spoke to the stars as if he were reciting Shakespeare. His bloodied face lit up with satisfaction, with accomplishment, and with the sweetest relief.

And then it faded to a crushing look of forgetfulness.

" _Are you serious?!"_ The Ghostbusters exclaimed in unison.

" _Hold your friggin' horses, I remember!"_ Ash snapped. "Klaatu...Barada…" He winced and snapped his flesh fingers in desperation.  
"It's always this bit…"

"Now I can see why he doesn't get paid for this," Venkman muttered.

" _NIKTO!"_ Ash bellowed. " _Klaatu Barada Nikto!"_

The Deadites froze, their black eyes staring hungrily at Ash and the Ghostbusters, as if they were enticing prize chickens kept out of their reach by a display case. They looked down, down at the floor, at the ground, at whatever lay beyond it, and began dissolving, much slower than before, into scarlet mist.

" _No!"_ Vergil said through his teeth.

He smacked a sword strike from Dante away, and then thrust his own blade into his brother's neck. He withdrew it, then left his gargling opponent to leap at Ash. With a swift spinning kick, he shoved the demon fighter aside, and then reduced the disarmed Ghostbusters to a pile on the floor.

"I've not gone through all this just to be thwarted by some one-handed merchant and four dim-witted ratcatchers!" The one-armed Vergil lifted his sword, ready to bring it down on the humans.

Yamato shimmered in the moonlight. Red mist floated into the air around its owner, casting a bloody glow on the fuming face he shared with his brother.

And then the roaring blade of a blood-soaked chainsaw burst from his chest.

" _Now you listen up, mister fancy pants!"_ Ash yelled over his chainsaw's revving and Vergil's sputtering. He grasped Vergil's arm, ensuring that it flayed anywhere but in his direction.  
" _I know I'm not the brightest bulb on the chandelier, and I know that most people would pick your brother or the four bookworms here over me to deal with asshats like you! But goddammit, I never asked for this life! I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and got completely screwed over for it! But you know what?! I think I'm doin' pretty well, all things considered! So I think it's high time you and all those other undead dicks down there gave me a little respect!"_

Ash ripped the chainsaw from Vergil's back.

The half-demon kept his balance, although he coughed up a repugnant amount of blood over his already crimson-stained vest.

Ash looked over Vergil, where Dante had recovered. They both looked down and found a proton pack.

Without another thought, they picked up the nozzles, pressed them against Vergil's ears, and pulled the triggers.

Vergil's head erupted in a blinding glow of red and blue. His scream was drowned out by a buzzing, sputtering noise which the Ghostbusters knew as total protonic reversal, and which Ash called lasers throwing up. The half-demon seemed to not have a head, but only a screaming mound of blinding light.

There was a finally whirring bang, and blood splattered all over the Ghostbusters.

They looked up, finding two blood-stained faces smiling down at them, two smoking proton blasters in hand, with their packs on the ground on either side of Vergil's headless one-armed body.

"You guys have any spares of these?"

 **V**

"How did you two know that crossing the streams would do it?" Ray asked, helping Dante load the cumbersome crate into the Oldsmobile.

"Hm?"

"I mean, it makes sense in hindsight. The demonic aspect of Vergil's DNA allowed him to regenerate any dead tissue or bone structure, but the total protonic reversal generated by intersecting proton beams was powerful enough to cancel out his healing abilities,"

"Oh...You know," Dante shrugged, pushing the trunk shut. "Just did the calculations like you did. Right?"

"Sure," Ray chuckled.

"We just about ready, Dante?" Ash asked, opening the driver's door.

"Pretty much…" The demon hunter turned to the Ghostbusters, all with their uniforms stained in his brother's blood.  
"So, I'm guessing, scientifically, that my brother's not coming back from this one, huh?"

"Hard to say," Egon began. "We've used total protonic reversal before on an entity called Gozer the Destructor, and he was able to return years later. But you and your brother are very different from Gozer,"

"You're not saying you want him back?" Venkman questioned. "I know he's your brother, but he's not exactly the cheery center of dinner table conversation. Plus, it was _you_ who crossed the streams around his big snooty head,"

"Maybe…" Dante replied, looking down at the Oldsmobile's trunk. His distorted reflection looked back at him from the dirtied paint.  
"He's my brother, and nothing he does will change that...But still, the world seems better off without him. Guess I can't have everything, right?"

"Welcome to the club," Venkman and Ash chimed.

"Hey, Ash," Winston said, holding up a glass case containing the Necronomicon, whose screaming cover seemed somehow more intimidating while imprisoned.  
"You sure you want us to hold onto this?"

"Hell yes," Ash answered immediately. "I kill demons and you guys keep 'em locked up. Can't destroy that thing, so may as well lock it up,"

"Alright, but you'll be the first guy we call if we have any problems," Winston retorted.

"Well, it's been fun, Ghostbusters," Dante said, strolling to the passenger side of the Oldsmobile.  
"But I'd better get back to my shop and answer the hundreds of thousands of angry customer calls no doubt left for me while we were having our little bash,"

"Before you go…" Winston began. Dante and Ash each raised a curious eyebrow.  
"What you said about us, Dante...Just thought I'd come back at ya and say that it's nice to know that there's at least one demon out there who's on our side,"

" _Half-_ demon; don't generalize," The demon hunter replied. He gave a lazy two-fingered salute.  
"See you on the other side,"

"Call me if you have any vacancies," Ash added.

With that, the pair entered the Oldsmobile, which was soon cruising down the road much more casually than any car with a half-demon's corpse in the trunk had any right to be.

"You think we should recommend them to our customers when we're busy?" Venkman asked.

"You know what I'd recommend?" Winston replied. "Another pizza and then at least eight hours' sleep,"

Peter patted him on the back.

"You have all the best ideas, rookie,"

 **VI**

"Hey, Dante, I was wondering," Ash began, bobbing his head to the tune of Huey Lewis over the radio.  
"You looking for any extra hands over at Devil May Cry?"

"Yeah, but I'd need at least two more hands," Dante smirked.

"Okay, I walked right into that one...But tonight, hearing about your shop and about those Ghostbuster guys, I'm thinkin' I've been missing out on a business worthy of my talents. And you said yourself that you were having money troubles; maybe I could help you out. We could split up, take on two jobs at once,"

"I see what you're getting at," Dante stroked his chin as he leaned his elbow on the open window. His white hair blew behind him, almost replicating Vergil's appearance.  
"You could go open up some portal to Hell, then we could get paid to clean up the mess, and nobody would be any the wiser,"

"Oh, come on, man," Ash retorted. "I left the book with the guys back there! There's _no way_ I'm gonna accidentally summon any more otherworldly evils upon the planet! I'm gonna turn a new leaf! Gonna start bein' just the solution, and not the solution _and_ the problem,"

"And get paid for it,"

"Well…" Ash shrugged. "You save the human race like you, me, and the Ghostbusters do all the time, is it so wrong to ask for just a little something to show for it?"

"You're hired." Dante patted him on the shoulder without looking away from the illuminated city passing them by.

"Y-...Really?"

"Sure. You're right; I've got too many people making problems for me and not enough helping me out. And despite your slip-ups, you know your way around the uglier parts of the industry...And you're right; you deserve a little more recognition in the demon world,"

"...You think so?"

"There's not many humans who can say they took down someone like my brother. You and our new friends back there make up more than half of 'em. And it just makes sense; I need some help, you deserve a promotion. You help me and I help you,"

Ash turned a corner, feeling something tingling inside him that he hadn't felt in years, and hoping that Dante couldn't tell.

"You know, Dante, I think this will be the start of a great partnership-"

Something ripped through his back, and a moment later it burst out of his chest.

Ash's first fear was that the Oldsmobile, which he had just paid off, was about to crash, but there seemed to be nothing to crash into. Outside, the dim streets of New York had become a vast whiteness. Ash couldn't tell if it was too bright to see, or if his car had been teleported to a place of total whiteness.

He looked down and saw a light shining beside a bloodless wound in his chest. It was somewhat like the light that had taken Vergil's head off, but it was purple.

Ash forced his head to the right, and saw Dante in the exact same predicament, although his light was red.

" _I told you that you'd see my perspective,"_ Vergil's voice announced. To Ash, it seemed to be coming from outside.  
" _This wasn't the way I wanted, but it's the way you chose,"_

Ash looked into the rearview mirror, finding the backseat shrouded in shadow. All he could see was a pair of yellow eyes glaring back at him.

" _Relax, my champions of the supernatural,"_ A new voice, that of a woman who sounded commanding and stiff enough to be Vergil's older sister.  
" _You have worked hard. You deserve a good rest. And when you awake, I will have a job that requires your unique services,"_

Ash tried to move, but he felt bound by much more than his seatbelt. He was overcome with another feeling he had not felt in years; a parasitic emptiness he had only felt in his right hand when he had been forced to amputate it.

Now the emptiness spread through his whole body. It crept up from his chest and smothered him.

It terrified him.

A few moment later, he loved it.

 _ **DEMONS,**_ **or** _ **Ghostbusters x Evil Dead x Devil May Cry**_

 **Season 1, Episode 2**

 **NEXT TIME ON** _ **JUSTICE LEAGUE INFINITE!**_

In the farthest reaches of the galaxy, a band of former rebels thrive in a new age of peace, and prepare themselves for the adventures that lay ahead. Their plans are shaken by the return of an old enemy thought dead, and the arrival of a strange blue box.

 _Coming soon!_


	4. S1E3: Force

A long time ago in a galaxy far,  
far away….

 **Season 1, Episode 3:**

 _ **Force**_

 _It is a time of peace in the galaxy._

 _Three months have passed since the Empire's defeat at the hands of the Rebel Alliance._

 _A New Republic is beginning to rise from the ashes. Leia Organa contributes largely to its development._

 _Meanwhile, making a new home for himself on the Forest Moon of Endor, Luke Skywalker continues his training as he prepares to begin a new generation of Jedi Knights._

 **I**

"You okay, kid?" Han asked. He holstered his blaster, and went to help his brother-in-law, who lay on the grass with a smoking crater in his wooden chest guard.

"I'm fine, Han," Luke grunted, pulling himself up before Han was even near.

"Master Luke, I _must_ recommend that you stop," C-3PO urged, anxiously lifting his stiff golden arms.  
"Suppose Captain Solo were to misfire and accidentally make a serious wound?"

"Don't worry, Threepio," Luke said, sending Han his most Han-esque smirk.  
"Han doesn't miss,"

Han returned the smile. "Chewie," He said to his Wookie friend, who stood behind C-3PO and R2-D2.  
"Keep Goldie quiet, would ya?"

Chewbacca growled softly onto the top of C-3PO's head, foggying its glimmering metal.

"Oh, dear," The droid muttered, his fixated wide-eyed expression accurately representing his fear.

R2 beeped beside him.

"I do _too_ know when to quit!"

"So is this something Yoda said you should learn?" Han asked, twirling his blaster on one finger.

"Not exactly," Luke replied. "But if I'm going to start training new Jedi, I need to be prepared for every scenario,"

"But if you're up against a blaster, why not just disarm 'em?"

"Could be a sniper; I might not see them but hear the shot,"

"Then jump outta the way. Or block it with your lightsaber,"

"I could. But what if there were others around me? The shot could hurt someone else. But using the Force, I can block the shot _and_ keep it from hitting anyone, or even use it against my opponent,"

Han rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine, you got me there." He aimed at the blackened center of Luke's wooden chest armor.

The Jedi promptly placed his hands behind his back.

"You gonna keep the beard?" Han asked.

"Yes…" Luke stroked the blonde hair coating the lower half of his face with his flesh left hand.

It made him look like how Han imagined Ben Kenobi did in his youth, long ago in the glory days of the Jedi. In all honesty, Han found it appropriate; a new age of Jedi called for a new bearded knight.

"Just feels right," Luke continued. "Everything's changing; I should change with-"

 _PEW!_

Han squeezed the trigger and Luke extended his flesh hand.

Between them was a thin line of blue light, shaking in the air as if wrestling with some invisible force.

Han looked past the bullet of light and at his brother-in-law's face. He seemed calm, but not relaxed. Determined, but not tense. His expression was a perfect medium, and it hypnotized Han. It was the face of control; not the desire for it, as he had seen in the faces of friends and foes like Lando or Jabba, but the real possession of total control. In a way, Han admired it. He almost envied it.

The beard, he thought, helped a lot.

Luke raised his arm abruptly, and the bullet flew straight into the sky. It struck a tree branch, which plummeted to the forest floor, much to the surprise and irritation of several chittering Ewoks.

"Sorry, Wicket!" Luke called up to them, his masterful look reverted back to the inexperienced farmer Han first met on Tatooine all those years ago.

"Keep that up and you'll cut down enough wood to build a new temple," A soft but firm voice said behind Han.

He turned around and found who he knew as Leia Solo, and who the public knew as Leia Organa. She wore the green waistcoat worn by all New Republic senators, which blended into the grass and leaves covering Endor. Her dark brown hair was tied into a ponytail.

"Hard day at the office?" Han asked, giving his coyest smirk and putting an arm around Leia as she passed.

"Actually, things are coming along more swimmingly now," She answered, placing a hand on his cheek.  
"Practically every aspect of the Empire has been replaced with a more benevolent candidate. Also, Lando sends his regards." She patted his cheek hard enough to make a slapping sound, but gentle enough that it didn't sting.

She then turned to Luke, who had already discarded his makeshift vest and made his way over for a hug.

Han smiled at them, remembering back on Hoth when Leia had kissed her brother. Han knew it had only been to get a rise out of him, but he wondered if the memory chewed on the siblings' minds with each embrace, each kind word, each passing smile. Or perhaps it was now just a nostalgic joke between brother and sister.

"Shall we continue your training?" Luke asked.

"Yes," Leia answered. "I could use some spiritual exercise after a day of politics,"

Han went to join Chewie and the droids, watching as the Skywalker siblings knelt down on the luscious Endorian grass.

He watched Luke give instructions as he always did; close your eyes, breathe, feel the Force surrounding you, binding you, flowing through you.

Leia obeyed, and moments later, the grass around her waved without wind, and the nearby rocks floated into the air. Each day they got higher; today they rose to at least two inches.

Han leaned against a tree behind him, folding his arms as he watched his family experiment with powers beyond his understanding or his care. He still didn't believe that the Force was everything Luke and Ben had told him, he felt something comforting in Luke's conviction to it, like some form of sense was returning to the galaxy. But as he watched the lesson, he knew that Luke's new Jedi Order was not yet beginning. Despite Leia's interest in the Force, Han knew that she was a politician and a leader first. This wasn't about training Leia, it was about training Luke. It was about preparing to train others, people younger and more suggestible than Leia, and doing so without anyone to ask if it was being done right or not.

Chewbacca growled anxiously.

"What is it, Chewie?" Han asked, his hand going straight to his blaster. He could tell when Chewie sensed danger.

He looked up into the bright Endorian sky, and saw something like a meteorite heading straight for him. As it neared, Han saw that it wasn't a meteor, but a man with a jetpack. He drew closer, revealing his filthy green armor, his small, pale red cape, his rifle, and his helmet with a T-shaped visor, glaring down at Han like a flying predator.

" _Boba Fett?!"_ Han exclaimed as both a warning and a question.

Everyone leaped out of the bounty hunter's path as he fired upon the grass, making a smoking black line from where the Skywalker siblings had been to a ways up the tree Han had been leaning on.

" _Oh, deaaaaaaaaar!"_ C-3PO cried. R2 shrieked along with him.

Boba Fett somersaulted in the air and landed on the tree, kicking off of it and towards Han, pinning him to the forest floor by the throat. Han's blaster tumbled out of his hand and skidded along the dirt, far out of his reach.

"How are you alive?!" Han gasped as his hands were pinned by Fett's left hand and right boot.  
"Chewie said you fell in the Sarlacc Pit back at Jabba's Palace!"

"I did," the bounty hunter growled. His voice was different from what Han remembered; gone was the icy, menacing tone of a predator waiting to pounce, replaced by the hoarse, hardened voice of an aged general.

"Hold on…" Han coughed. "Of course! You're just a copycat wearing his armor!"

"I am the same man you humiliated on Tatooine, Solo!" Fett spat. "Things have changed for me, as they will change for you and your friends,"

Behind him, Chewbacca had drawn his bowcaster, Leia had pulled a blaster from her coat, and Luke had ignited his lightsaber, his bearded stone face dark beside the green glow.

Remaining fixated on Han, Boba Fett pressed a button on his left glove with his thumb.

A missile burst from his jetpack, shooting straight upwards like a firework. It curved in the air and began a breakneck return journey to the ground where Luke, Leia, and Chewbacca stood.

Luke held his flesh left hand out, and the missile slowed to a halt, trembling in the air as fire sputtered fruitlessly from its thruster.

"Not your smartest move, Boba." Luke turned his hand, not feeling his fingers, but instead scorching metal, and the missile tilted to face its original owner.  
"Now let Han go,"

"Don't boast too much about intelligence, Jedi!" Fett shouted, pulling Han up and trapping him in a half-nelson. He then used his free right hand to retrieve his blaster, curled it under Han's free arm, and pressed the barrel against his neck.  
"Unless you really do plan to blow up your friend _with_ me,"

"I can drop the missile behind you," Luke rebutted. "You'll take the brunt of it, and I can promise you we'll be quick enough to detain you afterwards,"

"Quicker than my trigger finger?" The bounty hunter snarled. "I don't think so. Now back off, and you can have your turn when Solo's finished,"

Han was sweating. He knew that there must be some way of escape; there always was. But in that moment, and all those before, before the solution revealed itself to him, when it seemed like his number was finally up, he couldn't help but sweat.

It only made him think even harder.

He looked at Leia, who looked back at him with the same perfectly balanced expression as Luke.

Beneath the blaring of the restrained missile, Han heard something shifting in the soil behind him; his blaster.

He opened his left hand, ready to catch the weapon when it came flying. Instead, there was a short, sharp blast, and then Boba Fett was shouting in pain.

 _That works, too,_ Han thought, breaking free before snatching Fett's rifle away.

The bounty hunter bent down to clutch his wounded thigh, and then lashed out suddenly at Han with a blade concealed in his gauntlet.

Chewbacca roared and fired at Fett, who dodged swiftly before activating his jetpack and charging at the wookie.

Luke seized the opportunity and brought the missile down in the space between Han and Chewie. The explosion was small (although most explosions seemed small to anyone who had watched the destructions of two Death Stars) but enough to send Boba Fett hurtling into the nearest tree trunk, his pained cry harmonizing with both bony and wooden cracks.

As the bounty hunter fell to his knees, Han dashed towards him and seized his helmet. He ripped it away and, as he had expected, did not find the bald, scowling face of his old enemy.

"Ha!" I _knew_ you weren't him!" Han exclaimed in triumph.

He grinned in the face of a red-haired man with a goatee and striking green eyes.

"I _am_ Boba Fett!" The stranger coughed.

Han looked closer, and though the face was new to him, the jagged, piercing glare trapped inside it, screaming back at him like a man frozen in carbonite, was all too familiar.

This was strange enough for Han, but then the face, Boba Fett or not, began emitting a humid, golden glow, as if it were irradiated.

"Damn…I was just getting to like this new one…" Fett coughed again, and then his glare turned into a malevolent grin.

Han had never seen Boba Fett smile.

"Don't worry, Han, old friend," He whispered. "There's a lot more where that came from…"

His eyes dropped shut, and then glow completely shrouded his face. For a few seconds, Boba Fett's face seemed to have been replaced by a miniature supernova. When the light dimmed, Fett's skin had darkened, as had his hair, which had stretched to reach his shoulders.

His brown eyes hovered opened. He grinned at Han once more, and then fell limp.

"Is he dead?" Luke asked.

Han slid two fingers under Fett's neck, and what he discovered was even more harrowing than any of Boba Fett's smiles.

 _Thump-thump-thump-thump...Thump-thump-thump-thump..._

 **II**

By the time Boba Fett was stirring awake, a band of Ewoks had already tied him to a tree trunk. The bounty hunter looked up at his captors, finding their perturbed, speculative faces, and his lips curled into a dark grin that chilled even Han's spine.

Han waited for him to speak, but he just kept grinning. Han glanced at Fett's helmet under Chewbacca's arm, and had to fight the urge to snatch it away and slam it onto its owner's head.

"W-Well, th-that's not possible," C-3PO stammered.

"What's not possible, Threepio?" Luke asked.

"I was just scanning Boba Fett for any potential causes of his change in appearance, or of the rapid heartbeat that Captain Solo mentioned. But my scans indicate that Boba Fett has _two_ hearts,"

R2 beeped at him.

"Of _course_ my scanners are fully functional! You can scan Boba Fett yourself if you don't believe me!"

"And he definitely didn't have two hearts before?" Han questioned.

" _Nothing_ has two hearts, sir. Every organic creature in the known universe has only one. The amount of blood that would require two hearts to circulate would be _extravagant!"_

"One just wasn't cutting it for me," Boba Fett snarled, lifting his long-haired head to grin menacingly at the rebels.  
"I thought it was time to upgrade,"

"Upgrade to what?" Leia asked, approaching him. "What have you become? And more importantly, _how_ did you gain the means to do it?"

"Here's my question," Fett sneered. "What will you do if I keep quiet about it? As you just saw, there's not much that I can't walk off anymore,"

"Let me ask you another way…" Luke stepped up, slowly waving his gloved metal hand past Fett's face.

Han stretched an arm behind his head as he watched. He knew the Jedi's mind trick was a gamble; extremely effective if successful, but embarrassing if failed. He winced, knowing in his gut that this was going to be an instance of the latter, and already feeling embarrassed for his brother-in-law.

"You will tell us what you've done to yourself," Luke calmly commanded.

Fett's filthy smile widened, his teeth unusually white.

"No. I. Won't,"

"Well, I'm out of ideas," Han shrugged.

"Fresh out already?" Somebody behind him said. The voice was calm, and yet it had a depth and a sharpness that demanded to be heard. It clutched the ears of rebels, droids, and bounty hunters alike, and pulled them in its direction.  
"Pity; they always go just before I arrive,"

Strolling along the luscious Endorian grass was a tall man with a fedora resting on his curly brown hair. He seemed dress to deliver a lecture; green cravat, brown jacket, sensible beige pants. Then there was the scarf, made from wool of every color and waving past the man's knees, which left the rebels befuddled at who or what he could possibly be.

Beside him was a woman only an inch shorter, with long, straight blonde hair, and wearing a navy blue coat and a crimson tie. They each had their heads lifted at the rebels, not enough to appear condescending, but enough so that they seemed to be studying them.

"But be considerate..." The woman replied her friend while looking at the rebels and their captive.  
"These days, it can be difficult to maintain a steady income of ideas,"

"Yes, but it doesn't hurt to ask one to try a little harder," The man responded, his words argumentative but his voice forgiving.

"Ah, but it's foolish to ask anyone to try better than their best," The woman replied, her voice softer than the man's, but still possessing its hypnotic allure.

"Too true, too true,"

"And who are you supposed to be?" Han interrogated, folding his arms

"I'm the Doctor," the man said, as if it were obvious, with a tip of his hat.  
"And this is Romana,"

"Romanadvoratrelundar, if you want to be formal," the woman added.

Han scoffed at them.

"You're a doctor?" Leia asked.

"Not _a_ doctor. _The_ Doctor,"

"You must have a name,"

"I do; it's the Doctor. And _do_ forgive my eavesdropping, but I couldn't help but overhear you all discussing things related with having two hearts,"

"Don't get comfortable just yet," Leia crossed her arms behind her back, addressing the Doctor with all the sternness of the rebel general known by the rest of the galaxy.  
"You arrive mere minutes after Boba Fett; logic dictates that you're his back-up,"

"Well, that's scarcely our fault," Romana retorted with the casual confidence of either an innocent suspect or an expert liar.  
"Had we turned up first, could we have expected to be welcomed with open arms?"

"One could hardly call us back-up," the Doctor added. "Perhaps I could use my scarf as a garotte, but I would _never_ stoop to such a low. It would loosen the wool,"

"Then what _are_ you doing here?" Han asked, raising his voice enough to make his impatience known.

"Our ship brought us here," the Doctor explained. "We were on our way to visit some old friends on Xenon, but then we came across this part of the cosmos, which we've never visited before, and decided it might be fun to explore,"

"Seems like quite the coincidence," Luke replied.

"Doesn't it?" the Doctor and Romana chimed.

"But enough about us," the Doctor said as they strolled past the rebels.  
"I'd like to discuss your double-hearted friend here,"

Han felt only a faint urge to restrain this peculiar wild-eyed man; not enough to act on, but it was definitely there. He couldn't help but distrust the pair of travelers, and yet their almost calculated childishness gave him little to distrust. Perhaps they really were just wanderers who happened to arrive in time to assist with the Boba Fett situation. Or they had something much more sinister planned. Either way, Han could do nothing to stop them here.

"Now then, Mr. Fett, was it? Tell me something about yourself." the Doctor looked right into Boba Fett's face, but the bounty hunter only glared back at him.  
"Well, if you can't say anything nice…"

"He's a bounty hunter," Luke answered. "He worked for our enemies in the past, but we saw him die some time ago. Now he seems to be able to heal himself by changing his appearance,"

"Ah…" the Doctor was fixated on Fett. "Now that's _very_ interesting...How did you do at the Academy, Boba?"

"...Well enough," the bounty hunter growled.

"Hm. Somehow I doubt that,"

"What Academy is this?" Leia asked.

"The Prydonian Academy on Gallifrey," Romana answered. "Of which the Doctor and I are graduates,"

"And like all graduates…" the Doctor began before abruptly taking Luke's flesh hand and placing it on his own wrist.

The Jedi felt his own pulse.

 _Thump-thump...Thump-thump…_

And the Doctor's.

 _Thump-thump-thump-thump...Thump-thump-thump-thump…_

"Just like Boba…" Luke said, looking up with astonishment at the Doctor, who looked back with a toothy grin, as if he were about to burst into laughter at the Jedi's befuddlement.

"M-Master Luke," C-3PO piped up. "M-My scans detect an _alarming_ level of similarity between Boba Fett's DNA and that of the Doctor and Miss Dvoratrelundar,"

"As they should, m'dear," the Doctor replied, spinning away from Luke. His scarf slapped the Jedi across the knees as he went.  
"Romana and I are Time Lords from the planet Gallifrey, all of whom have two hearts and are able to regenerate, which Mr. Fett here has already demonstrated,"

"But one is not _born_ a Time Lord," Romana added, stepping in front of the Doctor.  
"One must _earn_ the biology of a Time Lord by attending the Academy,"

"To ensure that such power only falls into reliable hands," Leia inferred.

"Precisely," the two Time Lords chimed excitedly.

"In theory, at least," the Doctor muttered.

" _Every_ Time Lord that ever was has attended the Academy," Romana continued. "The two are synonymous,"

"Which is why it is both very peculiar and very concerning that your bounty hunter friend has suddenly returned possessing every trait expected of a Time Lord save for an official diploma." He directed his toothy smile to Boba Fett.  
"No offense to you, Mr. Fett. I'm sure the Academy would be glad to have you, but I'm afraid rules are rules,"

"Never been one for 'em myself," the bounty hunter snarled.

"So you think someone's sellin' black market Time Lord endowments?" Han suggested.

"Quite possibly," the Doctor replied, his pensive face up at the perfect Endorian sky. " _How_ one would go about doing so, I cannot imagine…" He grinned at Han. "But that's half the fun, isn't it?"

"Yes, but before we get on with the fun, Doctor," Romana began. "Perhaps we should interrogate Fett more closely for the origin of his Time-Lordship,"

"Oh, yes, of course. And such Time-Lordship should mean that he is susceptible to telepathic contact,"

"It's worth a shot,"

"Most things are,"

The Doctor and Romana stood on either side of Boba Fett and shut their eyes. Their expressions relaxed, becoming the same perfect medium that Han had seen on Luke, Leia, and Ben Kenobi.

"Contact," they whispered.

Boba Fett's icy grin stayed on the rebels, particularly Han.

"Your new friends are completely nuts," He sneered.

He suddenly winced, his head snapping down as if he had just been hit.

The Doctor and Romana suddenly lit up, but Fett stayed down.

"Well, that's a start," Romana said.

"One must start somewhere," the Doctor added as they both turned, walking briskly the way they came.

"What did you do?" Luke asked them as they passed.

"Just a little Time Lord telepathy," Romana answered.

"Since your friend is now a Time Lord, it becomes a little easier to give his mind a quick browse for the place at which he was made so," the Doctor continued. He looked over his shoulder, never slowing down.  
"Aren't you all coming?"

The rebels exchanged befuddled looks.

"Chewie, bring Boba," Han ordered. His friend growled curtly in agreement.

"Are we sure it's a good idea to go with them?" Luke asked.

"They're weirdos and they're full of themselves," Han replied. "But other than that, they've actually been pretty helpful,"

"But that thing they did just now," Leia said. "That 'contact.' Luke, do you think that had something to do with the Force?"

"Possibly," Luke muttered, walking after the Time Lords and gesturing with his flesh hand for his friends to follow. They did.

"And then there's that Doctor's voice,"

"What about it?" Han asked.

"The depth. The words. At first, I thought it was just me, but every time he opens his mouth, he just sounds more and more familiar,"

"Who does he sound like?"

Han and Leia thought, replaying the Doctor's voice and words in their heads, as well as those of any other deep voices they remembered. Soon, they landed on one voice; one haunting voice that had tormented them for years, who had tormented the galaxy for decades, and though he was three months dead, wasn't quite finished yet.

No matter how chipper the Doctor sounded, the rebels would never stop hearing the voice of Darth Vader.

 **III**

"What a piece of junk," Han scoffed when he saw the Doctor's ship.

He hadn't been expecting too much, but he had at least thought he would find more than a blue wooden box barely big enough for one person, let alone six people, a wookie, and two droids.

"Don't you listen to him, my dear," the Doctor said, caressing the box's corner.

Han shivered at this, recognizing such an intimate touch from those shared by himself and Leia. In a way, it was even more intimate.

Han found the box's registration above its door, beneath a single cubic lightbulb; _Police Box._ Between the two words, in smaller writing; _Public Call._ There was another sign on the door; _Pull to Open._

The Doctor and Romana pushed.

"After you," the latter said, leaving the double doors only open enough to let out a small sliver of light.

The two Time Lords bowed for their guests.

Han looked to Luke, Leia, C-3PO, R2-D2, and Chewbacca, who carried Boba Fett's helmet in hand, with its unconscious owner on his shoulder much like how the Doctor wore his lengthy scarf.

They all seemed hesitant; even R2's stolid red eye seemed to show a concern for being locked in a box and then incinerated or crushed or worse. But they had escaped worse and much less peculiar deaths in the past.

"C'mon, you cowards," Han scoffed, marching towards the box.  
"What do you honestly expect to find in a tiny blue box?!"

He shoved the doors open, ready to find nothing but a few sad buttons on a wall right in front of him, but instead he found himself in a warm sitting room with red carpet and smooth wooden walls.

Stained glass windows illuminated the room with red, blue, green, and yellow. The light shined off the room's centerpiece; a hexagonal wooden console packed with as many buttons and switches as the _Millenium_ _Falcon_.

The room was made of materials and designs from the distant past, older than the Jedi or the Old Republic or anything that Han knew. And yet it seemed brand new. Barely touched.

Han could have sworn he had gone back in time.

He walked further in, his hands out, ready to find the wall where the holographic illusion would end, but he was able to walk all the way to the console, to feel its smooth wooden panels, smell its fresh aroma, and glide his fingers over the buttons that begged to be pressed.

Han knew this wasn't possible. As he took in the vast room contained in the miniscule box, he felt strangely ashamed, like he no longer had any business thinking of what was or wasn't possible.

"Welcome back, master, mistress," a squeaky voice piped up from underneath the console.

Han looked down and found a droid unlike any he'd encountered before. This one had a cubic body, and a square head with a rectangular snout, giving it a dog's appearance. That, Han thought, couldn't have been an accident, not with those miniature radar dishes in place of floppy ears, or that stick at the back that seemed to have no purpose apart from wagging. On its side was written, _K-9._

"K-9, huh?" Han read with a chuckle. "Cute,"

"Thank you, sir," K-9 beeped. "Although I trust you not to underestimate my aptitude in the fields of both science and self-defense,"

"Wouldn't dream of it, boy,"

"It's called the TARDIS," the Doctor announced.

Han turned to find the Time Lords strolling briskly into the ship, removing their hats and placing them on the console as if entering a house. Han could remember himself and Chewbacca entering the _Falcon_ hundreds of times in the same comforted manner.

Behind them, Han's companions followed, each of them looking about the room with the same expression as C-3PO.

"Which stands for Time and Relative Dimensions in Space," Romana added. She flipped a switch on the console and the doors, which stood out in the fanciful room by still resembling the old box outside, whirred shut.

"...It's bigger inside," Leia said.

Chewbacca growled in agreement as he dropped Boba Fett lazily by the door. He kept the helmet.

"Yes," the Doctor grinned. "The TARDIS is dimensionally transcendental,"

He pressed a few buttons, and the ship echoed with a powerful, mechanical groaning, like an enormous train chugging up a colossal mountain.

"Do forgive me, but my manners seem to be only half there," the Doctor continued. "I've invited you into my home, but neglected to ask who you are,"

"I'm Luke,"

"Leia,"

"Han Solo. The big guy's Chewbacca, or Chewie if you want to save some breath,"

The wookie growled softly.

"I am C-3PO, and this is R2-D2,"

The smaller droid beeped excitedly.

"Yes, yes, your names are all fine," the Doctor said. "But who _are_ you? Who could you be that somebody would become a Time Lord just to try and kill you?"

The rebels exchanged looks. Talking to the Time Lords, especially the Doctor, was like a friendly war. It always seemed to them like he was trying to have the upper hand, even during something as simple as asking their names.

It was a trait they recognized from both the egotistical and the sinister.

"We were leaders of the Rebel Alliance to overthrow the Galactic Empire and restore the Republic," Leia answered.

"You _were_ ," the Doctor replied, smiling like a student thoroughly engaged in a fascinating lecture.  
"And now? I assume you accomplished your goal?"

Han saw Leia's eyes change. It was something he was sure only he and Luke could see. Behind the stolid face of the princess, the general, the senator making a statement, there was a burning outrage at the notion that she was being interrogated.

Han turned from Leia to the Doctor, who kept smiling as if unaware of the frustration he was causing.

Perhaps he was.

Han considered; maybe their years of rebellion had made it impossible for him and his family to tell evil from eccentric.

"And now we each play a part in rebuilding the Republic," Leia continued. "I shape the senate and build relations with other planets and systems, and Luke prepares to begin a new Jedi Order,"

"Jedi?" the Doctor repeated, still the riveted student.

"Oh, don't tell me you haven't heard of the Jedi, Doctor," Romana said, leaning against the console and smiling in a teasing manner.

"No, I've not. Have you?"

"No, but I thought you said you knew everything,"

"Yes, well, I meant it more as a complaint; a reflection on the disappointing smallness of the universe,"

"Master," K-9 interjected. "I recorded your statement, made two months, one week, four days, five hours, thirty-eight minutes, nineteen seconds ago, and detected no signs of disappointment, but immense traces of pride and grandeur-"

"Yes, yes, thank you, K-9!"

"Welcome, master,"

The rebels couldn't help but smirk.

"But it's always exciting to learn about new cultures…" the Doctor continued, straightening his lapels as if hoping it would restore his control of the conversation.  
"So, Luke, yes? Tell me about this Jedi you're so keen on,"

"Well…" Luke began.

Han could feel his hesitance, the befuddlement of having to explain something you've never had to explain before because everybody already knew; like explaining why two plus two is four, or what the Jedi Order was.

Nevertheless, Luke explained, and he did so with a warm excitement not unlike the Doctor's or Romana's.

"The Jedi were an order of knights who kept the peace in the Old Republic. They were wiped out ages ago by the Empire,"

"I see. And how exactly did you keep the peace, as you say?" the Doctor sounded skeptical, like he was anticipating the Jedi to be the Republic's totalitarian law enforcement.

"They would use diplomacy where possible," Luke replied, smiling as if to comfort the Doctor of his unspoken suspicion.  
"But I feel like you mean weapons. If it came to that, they were armed with lightsabers, like this."

He took his saber's hilt from his belt and held it up. The Doctor and Romana looked intently at it, studying it. K-9 made a series of soft beeps that sounded somewhat like a dog's growl.

"But their most valuable asset and ally was the Force,"

"The Force?" the Doctor repeated.

"A military unit or a form of energy?" Romana asked, looking pleased with herself for doing so.

"The latter," Luke answered with a laugh. "They could tap into it to manipulate objects, the environment around them, even the minds of others. Basically, they would borrow the Force's power to enhance their own influence on their surroundings,

"Let's see, then," the Doctor began, fumbling eagerly in his pockets.

"What?"

"You can't go around saying things like that without giving a demonstration…" He dumped his belongings one-by-one onto the console beside his and Romana's hats.

A yo-yo, a box of matches, something metal and brick-shaped which may or may not be a battery, a whistle, a puzzle cube, and a thin silver device with a red tip that resembled a screwdriver.

Finally, the Doctor found a white paper bag and held it over the console, showing Luke that it was filled with colorful, sugar-coated candies.

"Have a jelly baby." It sounded like a challenge.

Luke's face entered that perfect medium again, looking right into the Doctor's wild eyes.

He held his flesh hand out.

An orange jelly baby leaped over the console and into the Jedi's mouth.

"Fascinating," the Doctor whispered, flicking a green jelly baby into his mouth before offering the bag to Romana.  
"How do you do it? Chemicals in your bloodstream? Perhaps your brainwaves are connected to the magnetic forces in the air?"

Luke swallowed. The sweetness stayed in his mouth long after the jelly baby was gone.

"I just…Do it,"

Han couldn't help but smirk at the explanation which Luke had given before, now delivered with hesitance instead of conviction.

"No you don't," the Doctor scolded. "Nothing is inexplicable,"

"How do you explain this, then?" Luke retorted, holding his arms out at the wooden walls and the stained glass windows.

"Quite simply," the Doctor began. "Transdimensional engineering. The room in which we stand exists on a different dimensional plane than the TARDIS' exterior. You might think of it as a gateway to another world,"

"Alright…" Luke folded his arms, lifting his head in a mimicry of how the Doctor had first greeted him.  
"Then what about whatever it was you two did to Boba Fett?"

"Telepathic contact? I told you; it comes with being a Time Lord,"

"Because that seemed like the Force to me. I wonder; could it be that your people are Force sensitive?"

The Doctor's face changed to one which the rebels had not seen on which yet, and which they assumed was exceptionally difficult to coax out of him; genuine surprise.

"Now, that _is_ fascinating,"

"That must be your favorite word," Han cracked.

"Third favorite," K-9 corrected. "At 562 uses. Second is _shut up_ at 703 uses, and first is _jelly baby_ at 918 uses,"

"Shut up, K-9,"

"704 uses,"

"I've never known such attitude from a droid," C-3PO whimpered.

"If I may redirect this discussion," Leia interjected. "How _exactly_ is an Academy graduate made into a Time Lord?"

"Thank you, Leia," Romana replied.

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, but Romana beat him to it.

"Upon graduation, one is exposed to the time vortex energy from the Eye of Harmony on Gallifrey; just enough to gain a dozen regenerations,"

"A dozen?" Leia responded. "Makes sense; prolonged life is much more reasonable than complete immortality,"

"In theory," Romana continued. "One could gain more, but it's rare that the High Council would grant any Time Lord additional cycles,"

"I have a feeling that Boba Fett's taken more than his fair share," Leia speculated.

"You know what I think?" Han said. "I think he _has_ gotten his fair share. He's a bounty hunter; he goes where the pay is. I bet you there's some new crime lord out there paying people in regenerations instead of money,"

"Wanted dead or alive," Luke mused. "Reward; twelve spare lives,"

"And considering how quickly Fett went through two," Leia added. "Demand must be high. Whoever controls this new market would have a tremendous amount of influence…"

Though she kept her stone face, she couldn't keep from going pale.

"They could even bribe members of the senate…" She turned to the Doctor, who was sporting his toothy grin again.  
"Are you amused, Doctor?"

"Oh, do forgive me. It's just that it's so refreshing to see people _thinking._ I'd say you don't even _need_ my help. Of course, I'm much too interested now to abstain, so I'll stay with you the rest of the way. Besides, with illegal Time Lord genetic tampering involved, Romana and I are somewhat obligated to put a stop to it. Aren't we, Romana?"

"The Council would probably just force us to stop it eventually, anyway," She replied. "May as well avoid the aggravation,"

"Indeed…" the Doctor flipped his fedora onto his curly brown hair.  
"So why don't we get started?" He marched for the rusted white doors.

"Are we there already?" Luke questioned.

"No," the Doctor grinned back at him. "We arrived a few minutes ago, but I was _so_ enjoying our discussion,"

With that, he slipped out the door, followed closely by Romana and K-9. The end of the Doctor's scarf slithered out after them.

"Even his droid seems a tad eccentric," C-3PO observed.

"You're one to talk," Han responded.

The droid looked at him, his fixated wide-eyed face indicating offense.

"I think we can trust them," Luke said. "At least for now,"

"What worries me more is that there's a race out there that can manipulate people by extending their lives," Leia added. "Who's to say that this High Council on Gallifrey isn't behind all this?"

"Who knows?" Han asked, resting a hand on the handle of his blaster.  
"If they are, then we'll just do what we always do with evil organizations, right?"

Luke and Leia smiled at him, and Chewbacca growled in agreement.

They followed the Time Lords and their peculiar droid. As they did, Leia turned to Han with a look of mischief.

"I don't know about you, but that felt like less than twelve parsecs,"

 **IV**

The rebels looked out at a purple sky possessed by the orange tint of dusk. Silhouetted against it were skyscrapers like swords reaching for the stars.

Hovercrafts cruised between the sharp buildings in two orderly pairs. Han and Leia suspected that the drivers felt much more stressed than they appeared from down below, considering how bustling they knew life on Coruscant could be.

"Massive, suffocating city. Extravagantly large population. Corporate-centered, judging by the towers," the Doctor observed. "Definitely the place for an interplanetary crime lord's base of operations. The only question now is where _specifically,_ "

"This is Coruscant," Luke said, looking into the distance with a look of dread about him.

"You've been before?" Romana asked, as if expecting a dry recollection of a long gone holiday.

"No, but I've been told by my masters that a Jedi temple used to be here, before the Emperor turned it into his own palace. Somehow, I don't think that's a coincidence,"

At this, the Doctor spun around, his wild eyes on Luke.

"You suggested that the Time Lords may be also be able to tap into your Force power," He said in an agitated whisper.  
"Perhaps you're right, and whoever's behind this isn't just after the Time Lords' power, but the Jedi's as well,"

Before anyone could so much as gasp, a dozen armored figures landed sharply in a circle around them and the TARDIS.

The air became polluted with the exhaust from their jetpacks.

They all wore masks, either covering half or all of their faces. Some were men, some were women. Some had blue skin, green skin, five fingers, three fingers, tails, fur, fins, gills.

They each had at least one blaster aimed at the rebels and the Time Lords.

Luke, Leia, Han, and Chewbacca reached for their weapons, but the Doctor spoke quicker than they could move.

"Hello there!" He chirped with a tip of his hat. "I see you've been expecting us. Allow us to offer our complete and total surrender,"

" _What?!"_ Han spat.

He made to storm towards the Doctor, but for a split second, he glanced at Romana. She had that balanced expression again.

Han stopped, feeling a migraine coming on, like something growing inside his head. Then, amidst everything in his brain; his repressed fear, his anger at the Doctor, his increasing intrigue at this new gang of bounty hunter Time Lords, there was something else.

A thought he could not remember thinking of, as if something had crept into his mind and placed it there.

Han suddenly realized that the simplest way to find the bounty hunters' boss was to get an escort from the bounty hunters themselves. Once they knew who the true mastermind was, they could stop him right in his own lair.

It seemed like a perfect plan to Han, even if Romana had abruptly injected it into his mind.

The Time Lady turned to Leia, Luke, and Chewbacca, who each winced at their migraine before their faces relaxed in realization and acceptance.

Unfortunately, the Time Lord trick could not work on the droids.

"Oh, dear," C-3PO whimpered as black-furred bounty hunter made a clicking growl at him.

R2 made a beep that sounded like a short shriek.

"Hush, you two," K-9 snapped squeakily.

C-3PO's petrified stare jolted down to the dog droid, whose satellite dish ears whirred teasingly.

"The boss is waitin' for ya, scarfy," a female bounty hunter with pale green skin snarled, pointing at the grinning Doctor with one of her three clawed fingers.  
"C'mon; let's get 'em back. And remember; boss never said we had to be careful,"

Just as the bounty hunters began closing in on them, there was a deafening roar from Chewbacca.

Han darted around and found Boba Fett in front of an ajar TARDIS, thrusting a gauntlet-concealed blade into the wookie's stomach.

" _CHEWIE!"_

Han paid no attention to his volume. The drivers of the hovercrafts high above him might have heard, but he didn't care; none of their hectic lives could possibly involve anything worse than a best friend bleeding from the guy in front of them.

Boba Fett pulled his knife from Chewbacca, and Han immediately slammed his palm onto the wound.

The blood was hot and thick. Han felt like he was keeping a geyser from erupting.

Chewie placed a furry hand on his to help his effort.

Han looked up at his friend, into his face, his blue eyes like two diminutive islands in a sea of brown fur. They looked back at him, digging into him as if trying to tether himself to an upright position. Or at least a conscious one.

" _You bastard!"_ Han spat at Boba Fett, clutching the fur around Chewbacca's wound.

"Aw, I'm sorry, Solo," Fett smiled with the sinister smugness of a magician who had just made a small animal disappear.  
"But since I was reborn again, I've been thinking how _rushed_ my last self's attempt on your life was. So I've decided instead to go the route of killing each of your friends slowly and precisely. Then, when it's your turn…" His lips cracked into a filthy reiteration of the Doctor's grin.  
"You'll be _waiting_ for me to kill you. Then maybe I'll make you wait for it a good, long while, just to drink it all in,"

"You're sick, Fett," Leia growled.

He snickered.

"I'm still getting used to it, but I'm already loving it…"

He bent down and picked up his helmet, which Chewbacca had dropped when he had been stabbed. Some wookie blood had dripped onto it just above the visor. Boba Fett did not wipe it away.

"In all honesty, though, as much as I enjoy each new face…" He lowered the helmet onto his long-haired head as if it were a crown. His slimy grin was soon shrouded behind the familiar, piercing 'T.'  
"This one will always be my favorite...Alright, friends; let's go visit our generous employer,"

The rebels and the Time Lords were made into the middle of the group, with half of the bounty hunters leading the way, and the rest behind them, prodding them in the back with a blaster barrel if they were too slow, or simply for fun.

Boba Fett walked right behind Han and Chewie, who could feel his shadowy grin like a serpent's tongue caressing their necks.

Han looked to his left, past his struggling friend and to the Doctor, who looked back at him and Chewbacca with another expression that must be exceptionally difficult to earn from him.

The Doctor was scared.

 **V**

As Han's hand was sandwiched between Chewbacca's furry hand and his thick blood, he could barely breathe.

Mere minutes later, as Leia saw their destination, the abandoned shadowy building of the former Imperial Palace, and even more formerly the Jedi Temple, she could barely breathe.

Inside, when they were finally introduced to the bounty hunters' boss, none of the rebels could breathe.

For a while, Luke did not.

They found him in a room walled by a single wide window divided by several pillars, offering a commanding view of the city outside. He sat in a single seat deep in the room, leaving an immense amount of space for more chairs, although there was only one.

Luke imagined a circle of seats, and immediately realized that this was where the Jedi had once held council. Somehow, he knew that the place where the cloaked man sat was where Yoda, Obi-Wan, or perhaps even his father had once sat.

The man looked up as the rebels were brought in, and Luke felt his frigid gaze immediately. He felt like he had been whisked back in time, back to the last time he had willingly surrendered to his enemies, and been brought before a cloaked figure.

Luke saw the figure's face; burned so fiercely that it resembled a well-rotted corpse.

He saw his eyes, popping out of their sockets, as if screaming at Luke for just watching as his father threw him into the scorching reactor of the second Death Star.

Luke was certain.

The Emperor had returned.

"Welcome back, my friends," He said, his voice like a spider crawling through each ear.

He stood up as the rebels were shoved into the room and onto their knees, during which Han allowed only a few drops of blood to escape Chewbacca's stomach.

The Emperor stood up and approached his enemies.

"Especially you…"

Luke waited for it; the hoarse spitting of the words ' _young Skywalker',_ like they were some kind of disgusting punishment.

"My dear Doctor…"

The Emperor stood over the Time Lord, grinning at him with teeth as black and decayed as the rest of his face.

"Master…" The Doctor whispered.

Luke's mind raced; were the Doctor and Romana apprentices of the Emperor's? Had all this really been a trap?

Then he thought about the word, _Master,_ and how he had said said it to Yoda, _Master Yoda,_ how C-3PO said it to him, _Master Luke,_ and how he had heard K-9 say it to the Doctor back on the TARDIS, _Welcome, Master._ Always obligated, courteous, natural.

This was not how the Doctor spoke.

The Doctor.

Luke's head lifted as he was chilled with realization. If there was a Time Lord who felt so attached to his wit and intelligence that he would name himself _the_ Doctor, then surely there was also one so obsessed with power and control that he would name himself _the_ Master.

"You look healthy," the Doctor continued, resurrecting his toothy grin.  
"Much more youthful than the one I used to spar with 'round the UNIT compound,"

Luke exhaled, savoring a nanosecond of relief that the Emperor was still dead. However, there was still the matter of this Master and his bounty hunter Time Lords, and Chewbacca bleeding out.

"What an extraordinary bit of luck that you would happen upon my old friend, Boba," the Master said, as if the Doctor had been a surprise birthday present.

"Isn't it?" Boba Fett replied, shoving past Han and Chewie to get to the Master's side, although there was plenty of room to walk around the kneeling group.  
"They were on the very same forest moon I'd tracked Solo to, and the new power you gave me interested them enough to come here,"

"Did you stab the big hairy one?"

"Yes, I did, actually,"

"Then it seems things are playing out to both of our likings for a change...You sound different, Boba. Did you suffer another regeneration?" The Master asked as if Boba Fett had only bumped his head; it was difficult to tell if he was being condescending or if he was simply eccentric.

"Not at all; I enjoyed every moment,"

"You know…" Luke began, biting his lip; he was determined never to call this man, this thing, Master. He could do it against the Emperor, and he would do it again now.  
"This place was once very important to my family. I wonder why you chose it as the base for your criminal activities,"

"Criminal?" The Master repeated, insulted. "I would hardly call merely wanting to remain alive criminal...But to answer your question; like my old friend, the Doctor, I have something of an attachment to history. A place like this, notorious in generations gone by, but now untouched by the new governments, was the perfect candidate,"

"And I agree immensely with your choice, Master," the Doctor replied, using the word in such a fleeting, casual manner that he seemed to purge its domineering meaning from it.  
"But I'm more curious of how you've been turning your new friends into Time Lords. I assume you haven't been taking them to Gallifrey to use the Eye of Harmony?"

"As it happens, I've found another, much more convenient means of accessing the time vortex than the Eye of Harmony…" the Master backed up to one of the pillars dividing the wide window. He pushed on it, and it opened, revealing a room with a console not unlike the one in the Doctor's TARDIS.

This one, however, had a panel missing. The new hole spouted a beam of golden light. As they gazed at it, the rebels heard somebody whispering. They could not hear what they were saying, but its indiscernible voice was irresistible.

Han noticed Boba Fett turning to look at the light. He could hear the twenty-four hearts of the twelve other bounty hunters throbbing behind him.

"You've accessed the time vortex via your TARDIS," Romana said. "That's quite clever, Master. You can't have come up with it yourself,"

The Master made a short hum that sounded like he was trying not to lash out at Romana.

"It was a lucky guess, really. Although, considering the results of my previous attempts to prolong my life…" He waved a charred, bony hand in front of his skull-like visage.  
"I decided it would be better to test it on others first. The bounty hunters roaming this part of the galaxy provided me with the perfect demographic of volunteers. Such as Mister Boba Fett, who I found crawling with only a single remaining limb from a beast's domain on some repellent desert wasteland called Tatooine. You can imagine, then, that people in his line of work would be _very_ grateful for the opportunity I offered,"

Boba Fett didn't respond; he was entranced by the light emitting from the Master's TARDIS.

"Well, you've outdone yourself," Leia congratulated dryly. "So why haven't you used it to heal yourself yet?"

"He was waiting for me to turn up," the Doctor answered just as the Master opened his rotted mouth.  
"The Master and I go quite a ways back. He prefers I be present for all of his schemes. Makes him feel nostalgic, you see,"

As the rebels listened to the Doctor, they each felt another migraine coming on.

"You know me too well, Doctor," the Master said, tilting his charred head.  
"And after I've finally repaired this husk, I'll have my associates to do as they please with your friends,"

The rebels considered how Luke and Leia would push over the Master and his underlings using the Force, and then Romana would whisk the Master's TARDIS into some random region of uninhabited space, while the rest of them subdued the bounty hunters.

"Meanwhile, my old friend, I shall keep you here, where you will watch my new order rise; a universe ruled by my own race of Time Lords. And with each step closer I get, I will take one of your lives,"

The plan, as comfortably as it fit in the rebels' minds, beared Romana's signature.

"Perhaps I'll even give you some back if I find myself still enjoying it,"

"Oh, that all sounds delightful," the Doctor said, grinning at the Master from under the rim of his fedora.  
"But I'm afraid I'm all booked,"

Luke and Leia shut their eyes, imagining a wind knocking the Master and the bounty hunters to the floor. They could feel it cooling their faces, evaporating the sweat on their brows.

Then it soared away from them and realized their vision.

The rebels were on their feet. Leia drew her blaster, Luke ignited his lightsaber, and Romana sprinted into the Master's TARDIS.

Han followed with a wavering Chewbacca over his shoulder.

"Captain Solo!" C-3PO cried, pursuing with tiny but speedy steps like a toddler still mastering the art of walking. R2 rolled along beside him.  
"I would strongly advise against putting Chewbacca in there! We don't know for sure what other side effects there are!"

" _Han!"_ Leia and Luke called.

"I've gotta try!" Han shouted back, already inside the TARDIS with the two droids right behind him.

Boba Fett looked up, and then rolled into the TARDIS. He got to one knee and looked straight at the Skywalker siblings.

Even behind the glaring 'T', they could feel his filthy grin.

The bounty hunters leaped to their feet, and Boba Fett slammed the TARDIS doors.

 **VI**

The Master's TARDIS was cold.

Where the Doctor had put wood and carpet, the Master had put black metal. Instead of stained glass windows, there were only rows upon rows of circular panels.

Once more, Han felt like he had traveled back in time, this time to the first Death Star. He was less convinced now that the Master and the Emperor weren't one and the same.

"You should be outside," Romana scolded in the calm yet cold manner of a schoolteacher.

"I'll go back," Han grunted. "As soon as I help my friend…"

He glanced at the light emitting from the time vortex. The whispering was louder now; it constantly shifted between male and female, old and young. Han still could not make out any words, but its allure had become even more powerful. His neck strained at the idea of turning away from it.

He heard C-3PO and R2 shrieking behind him, and darted around to find the droids being thrown aside by Boba Fett.

The bounty hunter drew his knife and lunged.

Han went for his blaster. Chewbacca bought him some time by catching Fett's arm.

Boba Fett flicked the blade into his free hand and thrust it into the base of Chewie's neck.

The wookie shook the room with a gargling roar, and then grasped Boba Fett's head in two massive blood-stained hands. He threw him to the side of the room, winning the helmet in the struggle.

With his blaster at the ready, Han dashed to the fallen bounty hunter, whose slimy grin met him from behind a curtain of long black hair.

Han placed the barrel on Boba Fett's forehead, then pulled the trigger without a second thought.

"Nine," He said.

Boba Fett's head rolled backwards in a blinding cloud of golden light. For about three seconds, his body was completely limp, and then it sprung back to life and seized Han's throat.

For a while, Han was glared at by nothing but a formless aura of light. Soon, it began to form into a head as it deafened Han with insane cackling. The light became little more than a glimmer, and Han discovered that Boba Fett's skin had paled, his hair had shortened and become blonde, and that he was now female.

"Eight," Han wheezed, the armored gloves tightening around his neck.

He put another one between Fett's eyes.

There was light and silence for only a second, and then Han was laughed at by a blue-skinned creature with a short black beak.

The gloves grew tighter.

"Seven,"

Another shot. Boba Fett's head lit up again. He was back two seconds later as a bald black man with green pupil-less eyes.

He kept laughing, his gaping jaw spewing wisps of golden light. He leaned closer to Han, pressing his forehead against the blaster's barrel, daring, _demanding_ Han to take another of his precious regenerations, and see if he could wear them all out before he suffocated, or before Chewbacca bled out.

See what good it will do.

As the universe became a blur orbiting Boba Fett's glowing, cackling face, Han was determined. All thirteen Boba Fetts would meet the same end; killed by Han Solo.

Something struck Fett at the back of the neck. His wide, maniacal face faded, and he collapsed on top of Han.

The icy dimness of the Master's TARDIS returned into focus, as did the image of Romana standing above him, her right hand behind her back, and her left held out, palm open, as if awaiting a handshake, or having struck something.

"Thanks," Han coughed, heaving the unconscious bounty hunter off of him and obliging Romana's hand.

"Venusian Aikido," she said. "Just one of many helpful skills one can learn while traveling with the Doctor. But _you_ should go help the others; they'll need all the help they can get to overcome the Master's allies,"

"I will, I will, alright?" Han snapped.

He turned to Chewbacca, who was on his knees with one furry arm on the console, his crimson-stained gut and neck painting the black floor red as the time vortex behind him brightened the room with gold.

C-3PO and R2-D2 stood beside him, their static faces looking down at him with concern. They inched carefully around the growing pool of blood, trying not to seem insensitive.

"As soon as I help Chewie," Han said.

"I can take him to a hospital in this TARDIS before I get rid of it," Romana pressed.

"No! We've waited too long already! I'm not risking his life when there's a way of healing him right in front of us!"

"You're not seriously considering making him a Time Lord?"

"I'm afraid I must concur with Miss Dvoratrelundar, Captain Solo," C-3PO added. "You saw how unhinged Boba Fett became in those recent regenerations. You could very well risk changing Chewbacca for the worse, not for the better,"

The wookie made a gargling growl at him, and he shifted backwards.

"Not only that," Romana continued. "But what gives you the right to bestow near-immortality upon anyone?"

"And what gives _you_ the right to say that I _can't?!_ " Han retorted. "Especially seeing as _your_ people are the ones who put a monopoly on the damn thing in the first place! But I'm not talking about making Chewie a full-on Time Lord! You said that your people look into this vortex thing _long enough_ for twelve regenerations. So if Chewie looked in for _short_ enough, then he could just heal without getting any regenerations. Right?"

Romana folded her arms, answering him with only a cold glare. Han noticed that she was about an inch taller than him, but she looked down at him with every millimeter.

" _Right?!"_

"It would have to be quick," She answered. "Barely a second; enough energy to heal but not to alter the body or the mind. It would be more like _blinking_ into the vortex...But it is your friend we're discussing; why don't you consult him?"

Han nodded as if accepting a challenge, and then went to Chewbacca's side. The sight of his friends bleeding so profusely, coupled with the persistent whispering from the time vortex, burned Han's head worse than any telepathic contact he had yet received.

"Did you get that, pal?" Han asked, kneeling beside the wookie with much less regard for the puddle of blood than the droids.  
"You just gotta look into that thing for a second, and you'll be alright,"

Chewbacca looked at him. Han internally confessed that, as inseparable as he was from his wookie partner, he remembered too many of their conversations as asides, be it focused on driving in the _Falcon_ cockpit, across a bar table, or over their shoulders while standing back-to-back in a shootout. He couldn't remember enough times when he had seen Chewie's face. Not looked at it, but seen it as the face of his friend; the only face that had never scowled or glared at him or grinned evilly at his misfortune. The furry, black-eyed face that was always beside him.

Refusing the vortex could mean that Han would never be able to see that face again. But accepting it, and looking in for too long, could mean the same thing.

"Look…" Han sighed. "It's your life, bud. It's your choice. Whatever you want, I'm with you all the way,"

Chewie slapped a furry hand on his shoulder. He growled softly, and made the best smile his maw would allow.

It was good enough for Han.

The wookie turned on his knees towards the time vortex, and peered into the glimmering vortex.

 **VII**

Luke shut his eyes.

He saw nothing, but he could feel everything around him. He could feel Leia at his back, the Doctor beside him, and the Master nearby. He could feel the warmth emitting from the Master's TARDIS, the electricity coursing through K-9 beside him, the fumes from the hovercrafts outside, and the scorching heat from the blaster bolts mere inches away his head.

"That's enough," the Master said as calmly as requesting a cheque, and the blasts stopped coming immediately.

He had eighteen, and could tell that Leia had the rest. They were both ready to dispel them back at the bounty hunters, but then the Doctor rested a hand on each of their shoulders.

"Would you two be able to spare me a minute?" He whispered in their ears.

They thanked him for not using telepathic contact. The additional strain may very well have meant their demise.

They nodded.

"Splendid," the Doctor stepped away from them.  
"I must say, Master," He said as if admiring a renovated house. "I'm _very_ impressed with all you've done. I'd say you've well-earned that new regeneration cycle. I'm curious, though; how did you work out how to access the time vortex through your TARDIS? Don't tell me you were so bored that you decided to begin removing pieces of the console?"

"There's never a boring moment for me, Doctor," the Master began. "I was recently approached by someone with knowledge of the universe beyond that of you or I. She shared some of that knowledge with me in exchange for a favor,"

"What sort of favor?"

Luke could hear the Doctor's hearts racing. At first he thought the Time Lord was frightened, but upon a closer listen, realized that he was elated. He was high on the tension, the mystery, the danger.

"Tsk tsk tsk. That would be telling, Doctor," the Master giggled. "And I know how much you enjoy solving these little mysteries for yourself,"

"That _is_ true,"

"You _need_ it, don't you?" the Master suddenly spat. "A mystery. A dilemma to solve. You'll go mad otherwise...But then again, you're quite mad already, aren't you?"

"There's nothing wrong with that," the Doctor said dismissively.

Luke felt the scarf brush his knees as the Time Lord moved around him.

"Not to you, or to dear Romanadvoratrelundar, but what of your friends? Miss Grant, Miss Smith, Leela, the dear Brigadier, or your darling granddaughter? Or your new friends here? Those who would follow you, _protect_ you throughout your madness? Are you still able to feel any real friendship for them? Because from where I stand, it seems you are merely using their abilities to allow yourself the opportunity to grandstand, as you do. It seems that your so-called companions are little more than your own band of bounty hunters,"

As the Master spoke, Luke realized that he wasn't talking to the Doctor; he was talking to him and Leia.

He no longer felt the marble of the council room. He felt cold metal and heard the rumbling of a reactor miles beneath him. He still felt the Master; he felt the hooded figure's gaze on him like a vulture eyeing a fresh carcass, creeping into his mind, searching for that one trigger that would shape it to his own desires.

Luke would not let him find it. He knew Leia wouldn't either.

He locked the Emperor out, and listened only to the Doctor and his two jubilant hearts.

The blaster bolts had inched closer.

"What can I say, Master?" the Doctor asked.

Luke and Leia each felt a casual arm flung around them.

"You have me all figured out,"

The Skywalker siblings were pulled to the marble floor, and their concentration on the Force was severed.

The room erupted into a torrent of released blaster fire, and then into a cloud of golden light.

"Is that not murder, master?" K-9 asked.

Luke and Leia looked up, and found a dozen regenerating bounty hunters. The Master was slumped in his chair, looking particularly sinister for a corpse.

"No, K-9," the Doctor answered, straightening his fedora. "All we did was jump out of the way." He patted Luke and Leia each on the back.  
"Well done, you two. Now get up; we need to get this lot into the Master's TARDIS before they come to,"

Luke and Leia reached out. Neither was yet able to lift a living body with the Force, but they were able to lift two or three jetpacks with an unsuspecting bounty hunter attached.

"Not that I don't appreciate your assistance, Doctor," Leia began. "But I have little patience for those who string me or my family along,"

"Oh?" the Doctor replied, pulling a bounty hunter towards the TARDIS by the rim of his chestplate.  
"Even if it ultimately works?"

"My issue isn't with whether or not it works," She carried her two bounty hunters in the Doctor's direction, her glare on them, though it was intended for the Time Lord.  
"My issue is with your taking advantage of others for your own ends, which the Master made clear you are in the habit of doing,"

"Yes, I must commend you again for resisting that bit of misdirection of his," the Doctor said, as if ignorant of Leia's criticism.

"Listen, Doctor," Luke interjected, aiming for a medium between the Doctor's calm and Leia's severity.  
"Your intelligence has been invaluable today, but in tricking the Master, you also tricked us. I'd like to call you an ally, but I can't if you're going to manipulate us as you would our enemies,"

"Well, I apologize for not taking your _feelings_ into account," the Doctor retorted with strictness double that of either Skywalker sibling.  
"Look; you lot are some of the brightest I've seen in the galaxy. Believe me; it's so full of people with so little brain. But you're different, I _know,_ I've _seen._ But if you want to protect what's right in the galaxy, if you want your Jedi to be capable of overcoming people like the Master, you _must_ be willing to take risks…"

He stopped for a moment, and when his trenchant voice that continued to echo in Luke and Leia's minds as the voice of Darth Vader returned, it was a whisper. Not as angry as before. Now it was melancholy.

"Believe me; I've had to do much worse things over the centuries…"

Luke and Leia said nothing else. They both heard the Doctor's twin hearts; gone was the elation at the sensation of danger. Now there was something which did not even sound like Boba Fett's heartbeat. Now it was as despondent as the Doctor's ancient face.

The doors of the Master's TARDIS creaked open, and then a delightfully familiar growl filled the room.

"We too late for the party?" Han asked, his cocky tone echoing with a note of relief.

Luke and Leia looked past the Doctor and found Chewbacca leaving the TARDIS with a grinning Han under his furry arm. The wookie's fur was stained with blood, but there was no sign of any wound.

The Skywalker siblings were initially terrified at what the time vortex might have turned their friend into, but upon seeing how relieved Chewie, Han, Romana, and even C-3PO looked, they relaxed. Whatever had happened, everyone was alright, and that was enough.

They looked at the Doctor, and found him looking at Chewbacca with his usual toothy grin. This time, however, it was pale and layered with sweat. This, Luke thought, was another reaction difficult to earn from the Doctor. A very particular sort of satisfaction.

The Doctor, he thought, must lead a crushingly unsatisfying life.

 **VIII**

"Are days such as this regular for you, K-9?" C-3PO asked, wobbling down the steps of the palace with R2 and K-9 on either side of him.

Chewbacca was ahead of him with the rest of his family under his massive arms. The Doctor and Romana were beside them, gladly distributing jelly babies.

"Most regular, C-3PO," K-9 answered.

"How _do_ you cope with so much pressure?"

"I simply _do,_ " He said with a smugness which 3PO had not thought any droid to be capable of.  
"Then again, that may be somewhat more difficult for an older model such as yourself,"

"Well, I never…" 3PO whispered.

R2 chirped at him.

"Oh, hush, R2. You're just as old as I, if not older,"

The golden droid looked ahead, and found the others already approaching the transcendental blue box at the bottom of the steps.

It had taken only two minutes to get the Master's corpse and his groggy, newly regenerated bounty hunters into his TARDIS before launching it to some random coordinates in deep space, but C-3PO felt like another generation had gone by. He looked forward to returning to the Forest Moon of Endor. Despite the few stressful aspects of the moon, such as the rambunctious habits of the Ewoks or Master Luke's more ambitious training methods, C-3PO genuinely believed that it was one of the most peaceful places in the galaxy. He often felt that living there was his reward for surviving all the danger he had been dragged into by Masters Anakin and Luke over all those years. He was anxious to return, and hoped that the next time he had to leave, it would be to a place that was even more peaceful, perhaps without any troublesome Ewoks, and with Master Luke a fully-experienced Jedi Knight.

3PO looked to the TARDIS once more.

He could have sworn that they had landed further away.

The Doctor opened the door.

 _PEW! PEW! PEW! PEW! PEW! PEW!_

3PO was frozen on the fourth to last step. R2 and K-9 stopped beside him, watching on as their friends writhed on the ground, and Boba Fett and the Master stepped out of the TARDIS.

"Master…" K-9 whimpered. "...Mistress,"

Though it was almost dusk, there was plenty of light from Coruscant's many structures, and yet Boba Fett and the Master were still shrouded in shadow. It seemed as if they _were_ shadows. They glowed like they were about to regenerate, but the light they emitted was black instead of gold.

They were shining darkness.

" _Terribly sorry, Doctor,"_ The Master said, kneeling down beside his nemesis, whose scarfed chest puked a stream of white light. Though there was distance between them, 3PO could hear his voice as if he were screaming in both of his audio sensors.  
" _But I'm afraid you won't be solving this puzzle,"_

The Doctor did not look at him; his wild eyes had gone black.

" _You seemed bored on that forest moon, Solo,"_ Boba Fett said, looking down at Han, whose chest was spitting blue light.  
" _I hope this will excite you,"_

" _Don't you three worry,"_ A third voice said, this one a woman who, despite being nowhere to be found, sounded as if she were right in front of C-3PO.  
" _Your masters are just fine. You might say they've been upgraded,"_

The droids looked at the ajar TARDIS, and found its homely interior polluted by something like a thick black cloud.

C-3PO looked down at Master Luke, who bent on the ground to look back at him. He reached out with his flesh hand, pleading at the droids with his blackening eyes as his chest spewed a dark green light.

His face was one of fear which 3PO did not think even his own static face depicted, and then it darkened to one of anger which the droid had only ever seen on one other.

Anakin Skywalker.

 _ **FORCE,**_ **or** _ **Star Wars x Doctor Who**_

 **Season 1, Episode 3**

 **NEXT TIME ON** _ **JUSTICE LEAGUE INFINITE!**_

A lonely boy obsessed with the extraterrestrial.

A lonely girl adored by the extraterrestrial.

A diabolical plot involving world domination and gene splicing.

A robot and his ice cream cone.

A glimpse at the mysterious entity that has been snatching up heroes.

And a little Elvis music to liven it all up.

 _Coming soon!_


	5. S1E4: Doom

**Season 1, Episode 4:**

 _ **Doom**_

 **I**

"Are you kids having fun?" Professor Membrane asked, his voice like an instructional video played at double speed.

"Uh-huh," Gaz muttered, never looking up from the spaceships she was obliterating in her handheld game.

"Yup," Dib said, never looking away from nothing in particular.

"Great," their father snapped.

There was a loud bang and a sound like a monkey screeching behind Professor Membrane, and then the hovering screen went black.

Dib sighed as he lay back in the soft Hawaiian sand. He stared up at the perfect blue sky and listened to the sounds of the beach. Waves caressing the shore, children laughing, cameras clicking, volleyballs thumping. All the sounds of the carefree, ignorant human race who, unlike Dib, did not need to worry about the impending alien invasion of the Earth.

Dib wanted to think that this surprise vacation had been for his own good; to take some of the strain away from his daily struggles with his repugnant school, his teacher, Ms. Bitters (who, before he left, had threatened to make him the school's scarecrow if he missed any lessons while he was away), the constant criticism he received from the other members of the Swollen Eyeball, and, of course, foiling Zim's disturbing schemes for world domination.

He knew, of course, that he and his sister were only in Hawaii in case their father's latest experiment wiped out their hometown in a fatal radiation outbreak.

As strange as their father was, Dib knew that he cared about him and Gaz. Perhaps not enough to simply not perform such a risky experiment, but Dib was willing to take what he could get.

But Dib wasn't as worried about radiation as he was about Zim. He knew that his Irken nemesis had a spaceship, and so could easily follow him to Hawaii in a matter of minutes. Zim could easily dispose of him here, escape the local authorities, and then return to school the next day with a rehearsed alibi.

" _Oh, I have no idea what happened to the Dib-stink-boy,"_ He imagined Zim saying innocently (or as innocently as Zim's slimy voice could manage) to Ms. Bitters.  
" _I was at home all day yesterday, afflicted with the deadly human sickness, common amongst humans such as myself, a human! I do hope someone didn't follow him to Ha-way-ee, transform him into a waffle and then feed him to my dog!"_

The very thought made him shiver in the scorching heat.

But he'd been gone a whole day, and there was still no sign of Zim. Which wasn't to say that he wasn't coming. Dib knew Zim well enough to assume that the Irken was trying to lull him into a false sense of security.

He was going nuts. It was impossible to prepare for Zim's attack, so he may as well relax a little, if only to spite Zim.

"I'm gonna go for a walk, Gaz," he said, standing and brushing sand out of the fin-like shape of his sleek black hair.  
"Yell if you see Zim lurking around,"

"What if I just yell for fun?" Gaz grunted as she scored a triple-blast power-up.

Dib gave her a stern look over his glasses, despite knowing she wasn't looking, and set off on his way.

If nothing else, Dib appreciated how much more pleasant Hawaii was than his hometown. It was refreshing to feel a breeze that didn't smell like manure, to look somewhere and not see an ad for Bloaty's Pizza, to look at a passerby and be smiled at instead of stared, and to have some _sun,_ for crying out loud.

When he became a paranormal investigator, he would situate his base of operations somewhere like this; where the places and people weren't as ugly as the things hiding behind them.

Dib looked into the inviting distance, past the lifeguard's tower, past a game of volleyball, past a trio of soaked surfboarders, past a man in a black coat walking his dog, past a portly sunbather enjoying an ice cream cone-

Who wears a black coat in Hawaii?

Even Dib, who favored black coats, had changed to a t-shirt and shorts for the boiling weather. They were still black, but at least he had made an effort.

He squinted at the man in the distance, and saw that his dog was not relieving himself at a nearby palm tree, as Dib had assumed, but was actually sucking on it like a popsicle.

Dib squinted further, and found that the old man's bearded head was shaped like an inverted pyramid, and his skin was a sickly green.

Zim looked at Dib and cracked his jagged grin like a rusted steel trap.

Dib hid behind a nearby palm tree, telling himself that it was a strategic maneuver and not a show of fear. He channeled his anxious breaths through his nose, hoping he would sound less scared as he ruminated his next move.

He thought he might simply run towards Zim, tear his disguise off, and simply shout at any nearby locals or tourists, " _Look, he's an alien,"_ and hope that people were more observant here than at home.

He heard the sand sift behind him and turned around, expecting to find Zim or some repugnant creation of his sneaking up on him.

Instead, he found a girl about his age who he figured was a local. She had long, black hair down to her shoulders, and wore something red with a white flower pattern that reached her bare feet (Dib swore that there was a proper name for it, but it eluded him.)

Dib opened his mouth for a simple hello, and the girl slapped her hand over it.

"Shhh," she whispered. "They'll find me…" she peered around the tree, then immediately pressed her back against it. She was panting, as if she had been running as fast as she could.

Dib didn't say another word; he was smart enough not to give away his position so carelessly. He found a coconut by the base of the tree and picked it up, twisting it between his hands like a baseball, and waited for the moment to strike.

" _Found you!"_

It was a monster with red fur like fire coating its body. Its black claws were raised in triumph, as if ready to slash downwards at Dib and the girl. Its head was like the pointed front of an arrow, its long ears were like the wings of an alien attack vessel, and its mouth of sharp teeth was huge enough to swallow both Dib and the girl in one swooping gulp.

" _TAKE THAT, YOU ALIEN FREAK!"_ Dib hurled the coconut straight at the creature's face, where it smashed into pieces and covered its target's face in milk.

Dib felt elated for barely a second, and then the creature's black eyes looked at him from behind a mask of milk.

It was decidedly ticked.

Dib was ready to turn and run; run and find a more effective projectile. But the creature didn't lunge at him.

The girl did.

" _Hey!"_ She scolded, shooting him a glare just as piercing as the creature's.  
" _What was that for?!"_

"I-I-I-I-..." Dib's tongue seemed to malfunction as he backed away.

Then something happened that made his mind malfunction.

The milk-soaked creature multiplied. Suddenly, there was a band of them in front of him; a blue one, a pink one, three green ones, one of which had a white mohawk of fur on its head like the helmet of a Spartan warrior. Dib looked up and found a golden one hovering above him, supported by what appeared to be a frozen bolt of lightning. He looked back down, and there was one three times the size of the others, and it had two heads.

Dib fell to the sandy ground, his legs and his head freezing as the monsters surrounded him.

" _Please!"_ He screamed, holding his hands out as if they would do any good. He instantly regretted this, knowing they would bite his arms off first, but it was too late.

He was nothing but a cowering statue as he waited for the first agonizing bite.

Something furry was brushing his palm.

Dib opened his eyes, seeing the world clearly after it had been only a horrifying blur of colors to him.

The blue creature was rubbing its head against his hand, not unlike a dog or a cat. Its fur was even softer than any dog's, at least those which had ever allowed Dib to pet them.

The creature looked up at Dib; his wide mouth seemed just as talented at smiling as it might be at swallowing children whole.

"Did we scare you?" He asked in a raspy, squeaky voice while tilting his head.

Dib said nothing. His heart was slowing to its normal pace, but he was still a statue.

There was something wet on his cheek; the pink one was licking it with her pale purple tongue. Dib discovered that she had two appendages protruding from her head; antennaes that flowed behind her head like ponytails.

Something warm on his forehead; one of the green ones was sniffing it with his trunk, which was like a baby elephant's.

Dib sat up, and the creatures, dogs, whatever they were, gave him space. He looked to the red one, and found him with the green one who had the white mohawk.

"Youga okay, Dan?" The green one asked in a graveled but tender voice, his three-fingered hand resting gingerly on the red one's shoulder.

"I'm fine, Chop," The red one, who apparently was named Dan, said, his soft tone like a more affectionate version of Dib's father's authoritative voice.  
"It's only my feelings that are hurt." He smiled with a warmth that fit his voice.

The green one, Chop, licked a trickle of milk from Dan's cheek, and Dan's dripping face lit up.

Dib looked around at the other creatures. He found the third green one sitting on the shoulders of the one with the trunk. His head split into three fins like a jester's cap. Dib assumed the creature was aware of the resemblance, as he was wearing a purple ruff, had a polka dot of the same color painted on his white belly, and his crimson nose was clearly a false one. He smiled in a playful way that was blood-curdling on human clowns, but this creature was able to make it inviting.

Dib looked up at the flying golden one. Where the others had black eyes, this one's were blue. His lips curled into a mischievous smile, and he folded his arms and raised an eyebrow at Dib, as if Dib were the stranger specimen.

Dib turned around and looked at the enormous green one. He found that he didn't have two heads after all; the second head belonged to a much smaller creature perched on his shoulder like a gargoyle.

"Youga have funny hair," The smaller one said.

The bigger one scratched behind his floppy ear with his left hand, which Dib saw had no fingers.

Finally, he looked back at the girl, who was still glaring at him.

"You should apologize to Daniel," she ordered, folding her arms.

"I…" Dib's tongue wasn't back from its break just yet. "I thought they were after you,"

"We were only playing hide-and-go-seek, and throwing coconuts is against the rules,"

"I don't care much for your racism, either," Daniel added, wiping away any milk that Chop hadn't yet licked from his face.  
"Alien freak,"

Dib gulped. He was used to his ongoing battle against the extraterrestrial being ignored, but never before had it been so quickly reversed to him being the villain and the aliens being the victims.

"...I'm sorry, uh, Daniel," He finally said. He wondered why the creature's scolding eyes made him more anxious than Zim's warped pink ones.  
"I've had run-ins with evil aliens before, and I thought you were one,"

Daniel smiled at him. Dib restrained a flinch as the alien came in for a hug. His fur was cozy, as were his arms, although they were cozy in a very precise way; an expertly practiced medium between an indifferent hold and a spine-snapping bear hug, which Dib believed Daniel was quite capable of.

"Then we'll forget the whole thing and start again,"

"Uh, sure…" Dib said as he was released. "My name's Dib,"

"My name Stitch Pelekai," the blue one replied, hopping onto Daniel's shoulders.

Daniel barely budged, as if the stunt had been rehearsed.

"Meega Angel Pelekai," the pink one said, leaping onto Stitch's shoulders and rolling in the air on the way.

Dib's jaw dropped at her show of agility.

"Sparky Pelekai," the golden one said, dropping onto Angel's shoulders.

"Elastico Pelekai," the clown chirped. His leg stretched up like a rubber band to the top of the tower, and then carried the rest of him up.  
"Ellie isa good, too,"

"Felix Pelekai," the one with the trunk rode up on Elastico's elongated arm.

"Clyde Pelekai." The huge one scooped up Daniel and placed the teetering tower on his thick shoulders.

"Bonnie Pelekai." Dib expected this one to climb to the top, considering her small stature, but to his astonishment, she snuck under Clyde and became the tower's new base. She didn't even look exerted.

"Chopsuey Pelekai." The one with the mohawk lifted the girl onto his skinny shoulders, and the two laughed together as they ascended the tower.

Clawed hands were extended as hand and footholds for them.

The tower was finally completed, with the girl serving as the top.

"And my name's Lilo," she called down to Dib. "Pelekai, as well," she added.

Dib marveled at the tower, and at the spectacular combination of strength, agility, teamwork, and playfulness that it embodied. It barely teetered, not even when Bonnie lifted her left foot to itch her right ankle.

But most of all, Dib was captivated by the strangeness of the tower and its participants, by the excitable need to do something as randomly dangerous as performing a stunt to make an introduction. Dib thought about his classmates, about his fellow Swollen Eyeball members, about Gaz, and every time one of them had called him strange, or a weirdo, or certifiably insane.

He thought about how much he hated it.

He looked up the tower, at each face smiling down at him, already having forgotten the coconut fiasco. Dib realized that, if he called any of them strange, they would thank him for the compliment.

How nice that must feel.

"So…" Dib began, unsure how he could follow up such an acrobatic introduction.  
"How are you all related?"

Lilo and her friends exchanged looks up and down the tower before they answered in unison.

"Cousins,"

"Huh…" Dib watched on as Bonnie set down Clyde, then Clyde set down Daniel, and so on until they were all surrounding him again.

"Are you here on vacation, Dib?" Lilo asked.

"What, uh, what gives you that idea?" Dib stuck his hands in his pockets and lifted his head, hoping he looked cooler than he felt.

"Wearing black," Stitch answered, tugging on his sleeve. "Too hot for black clothes in Hawaii,"

"Ih," Angel added, sniffing at Dib's forehead. "Youga sweaty,"

Dib wiped his brow. The sweat may also have been from the near heart attack he had experienced only minutes ago.

"Yeah, me and my sister, Gaz, are here on vacation," He said. "Well, it's not so much a vacation as a safety precaution, in case our dad's latest experiment causes a lethal radiation breakout that wipes out the city,"

"Oh," Elastico said, and then bent over to enter a handstand, as if to keep from growing bored of the conversation. His feet pedaled lazily in the air.  
"Well, youga and sis get to come here and do fun stuff. Youga surf yet?"

"Not yet," Dib replied, although he hadn't even considered going surfing. He thought that, for him, it would just be swimming with the added prelude of embarrassing himself by tumbling off a board.  
"I've been too busy looking for Zim,"

"Zim?" Lilo repeated. "Is he a friend of yours?"

"Anything but," Dib chuckled. "He's been sent by the Irken Empire to conquer the planet. I'm the only one who can see through his disguise, so it's up to me to stop him,"

"An Irken? On Earth?" Chopsuey stepped towards him. "What is he planning?"

Dib didn't answer straight away. Admittedly, he had never successfully convinced someone that Zim was an alien, let alone having to divulge the Irken's plan to them.

"I, uh, don't know what he's up to _this_ time. But in the past, he's done stuff like turn me into a baloney,"

"Eugh," The Pelekais groaned collectively.

"Or mind control everyone using a giant pimple,"

" _Eugh,"_

"Or steal people's organs and replace them with... _stuff,_ "

" _EUGH!"_

"And this other time he tried to trap our whole class in a room…"

The Pelekais leaned in, their faces frigid with anticipation.

" _With a moose!"_

"Now that is just mean," Clyde scoffed.

"Sounds like Irken, alright," Chopsuey growled.

"Meega hope he not want _our_ organs," Felix said, hugging his stomach protectively.

"Zim sounds really gross," Sparky grunted before sliding his pale blue tongue into his left nostril, rummaging around obsessively for some pesky thing deep within his sinus.

Dib couldn't believe his luck; people were actually listening to him. For a moment, he was suspicious that the Pelekais were another creation of Zim's, sent to make him feel protected before luring him into some kind of trap. But that just wasn't Zim's style. And though the Irken would say otherwise, Dib knew that he wasn't quite _that_ clever.

"Where could Zim be?" Stitch asked him.

"I just saw him over there…" Dib pointed into the distance, and the green-skinned old man was still watching his dog suck on the trunk of a palm tree.

Stitch hopped onto the nearby tree, landing just below the petal-like leaves. He leaned out supported only by his right hand and foot and looked at where Dib had directed. He resembled a sailor on the mast of a ship.

"Ih," he said. "He's Irken, for sure. I can see green skin. And he just the right height…" he looked down at Dib, showing him his sharp teeth in a kind but still somewhat unnerving grin.  
"Let's go talk to him,"

 **II**

Dib learned more on the walk towards Zim than he had in the entire school year thus far. Not because the alien Pelekais' origins were more practical facts than how to skin a moose or what existed in the space where he stood before the big bang ( _Nothing!_ ), but because he was much more interested in the former.

And also because, unlike Ms. Bitters, the Pelekais did not hiss and snarl before and after answering questions.

It turned out that the Pelekais were not from another planet, but were genetic creations built by scientists for a purpose very similar to the Irken Empire's.

"Except Lilo," Felix had added, leaning against her shoulder as they walked.  
"Lilo is normal human made in normal human way,"

"Lilo helped meega one day after crash landing," Stitch continued, walking backwards to face Dib. He performed an effortless backflip before carrying on.  
"Lilo helped meega be better. Helped us all be better,"

Dib looked at each of the furry creatures, who were all smiling at him with infatuated curiosity. Their anatomies seemed to be caught between that of a human's and that of a dog's, but their faces, with their big black eyes, their round noses, and their ears that jumped up and down as much as their owners did, all had a captivating cuteness that Dib recognized most from dogs.

He wondered, then, what exactly they must have been like before they came to Earth. Had they been like Zim, swiping organs and turning people into sandwich meat? Or had they been even worse.

Dib wanted to know.

"And what kind of stuff do you do now?"

He had hesitated, and the wrong question reached his lips. In hindsight, he thought it may be for the best. After all, the Pelekais were on route to becoming Dib's only friends, and more importantly, friends who would be essential in stopping Zim. He didn't want to mess it up so quickly.

And yet, he was still curious.

"Meega electrician," Sparky answered, hovering above Dib and wiggling his clawed fingers, which juggled sparks.

"We fix computers," Bonnie said, sitting on Clyde's shoulders and laying lazily on his head.

"Meega help at farm-ah-cist," Felix said, eagerly raising a clawed hand.

"I help at construction site," Elastico said, leaning against Felix's back and curling his elongated arms around them both.  
"But I _really_ want to start _circus!"_

"I teach archery." Chopsuey aimed with an invisible bow.

"I'm an English tutor," Daniel said. This did not surprise Dib, who was just as curious as to why Daniel's english was so far ahead of his cousins as he was of their past.

"And meega and Stitch play music in town while Lilo is at school," Angel concluded, hopping onto Stitch's shoulders. Stitch continued walking in reverse as if unaware of his cousin standing on him.  
"Our favorite is _Heartbreak Hotel,_ "

"So you all have jobs?" Dib asked. "Actual, regular jobs? People around here hire aliens?"

"Well, they hired Sparks, Ellie, and Felix," Daniel replied. "The rest of us are self-employed,"

"Stitch and Angie weren't even trying to make money," Lilo added merrily. "They just like playing music in the street, and for some reason, people just give them money,"

"That's...That's actually really cool," Dib said.

"You like music?"

"No. Well, yes, but I mean it's neat that there are aliens who can blend into society in a good way, who can have jobs and...Just do good stuff,"

"You think we can't?" Bonnie snapped at him, glaring at him from atop Clyde's shoulders.

"What? No. I just, uh…"

Bonnie grinned at him before leaping down onto his shoulders, snickering and ruffling his hair.

Din braced himself for the body weight about to drop onto him, but there was only a faint feeling like a pillow had been thrown at him.

Perhaps that was why the Pelekais seemed so unperturbed by their cousins spontaneously climbing on them; they were so light that it was barely noticeable.

Dib actually found it somewhat pleasant.

He wondered if Clyde was as light despite his size. He didn't ask; he thought it might be even more intruding than asking further about the Pelekais' past.

Soon they were face-to-face with the old man in the black coat. He greeted them with a jagged smile from beneath his grey beard, ignoring the pleased humming of his 'dog', still tasting away at the tree.

"Hola," he said, waving a three-fingered hand. "Don't mind me; just a passing tourist, enjoying the bile-I mean, the beautiful Ha-way-een scenery,"

"Are you serious?" Stitch groaned, folding his arms.

Dib cackled silently at Zim's stunned expression, with wide eyes revealing square pupils.

"Of course I'm serious," the Irken declared. "I take my touristing _very_ seriously-"

Stitch swiped his hat away, revealing two black antennae like those of an insect.

"Youga not tourist; youga Irken!"

"I don't know the meaning of that word!" Zim insisted, pinning his antennae down against his head with his hands.  
"These are tumors which I have had since I was a puny _human_ child," he said the word through his teeth, as if it caused him pain.  
"And I would thank you not to make fun of them!"

"Stop lying," Angel scoffed, seizing Zim's false beard and tearing it away. It didn't make a sound, but Zim released a delayed cry.

" _Oh, ow!"_ He yelled. "You've ripped out all of my facial hair! You didn't even give me a warning! Oh, what a horrible thing to do to a human of my old age!"

"This naga real beard," Angel retorted. "Real beard naga have net under,"

"That's just the way I shave it!" Zim argued.

He opened his mouth for another feeble fib, but then Elastico's finger stretched out at him, stuck to his left eye, and pulled. The contact lens popped out, and the purple eyeball of an Irken was revealed.

"Ha!" Elastico declared, waving the stolen lens teasingly above his head. "How youga explain eyes? Got youga!"

" _I have pinkeye!"_ Zim shouted, his thin, pointed tongue rising out of his mouth like a serpent slithering from down in his throat.

"Face it, Zim!" Dib interjected. "We've found you out! You can't get out of this one, so you might as well just tell us your evil plan so we can put a stop to it!"

"Oh, fine!" The Irken spat. "To be honest, it's not an especially complicated plan this time, _Dib…_ "

He threw his coat off, revealing his pink body armor, as well as a purple laser cannon twice his size, which roared to life as a green bulb of light sparked in its barrel.

"I'm just going to disintegrate you with my Atomic Disintegrator Of Doom, or ADOD, for short. And I think I'll destroy your _filthy_ new friends, as well! And then there will be _nothing_ that can stand in the way of my total domination of your pitiful planet! _NOTHI-"_

Angel and Chopsuey yanked the weapon from Zim's hands as Elastico's elongated arm grasped his head, pushing it back so he looked at the sky as his arms flailed desperately. Then Stitch stomped in front of him, brought his fist back, and sent it up into Zim's gut.

And then the Irken was flying.

Dib released all of his anxiety and his fear in a bellowing laugh as he watched Zim ascend like a firework. For a moment, he thought he wasn't going to come down. He thought Stitch had punched Zim all the way back to Irk, where he would have to explain his humiliating defeat to his leaders, who would never again dream of invading a planet with such powerful defenders.

Zim landed on the sand, where he was surrounded by a dusty cloud upon impact.

Dib actually preferred this outcome, since he got to see Zim's petrified face. The humiliation seemed to have hit him harder than the physical pain.

"Ow…" The Irken soon wheezed. "Muh...My squeedlyspooch…" He looked up at Stitch, remaining totally motionless on the ground.  
"What was that for?"

"You try to shoot us!" Stitch retorted.

"It's not fair...Couldn't have known...You had such... _Powerful_ muscles,"

" _Is_ fair! We save friends from Zim's big gun!"

"I was at a... _Clear_ disadvantage…" Zim let out a long, hacking cough. "And you ambushed me...I demand a rematch,"

"No rematch," Stitch scolded. "Youga very naughty, and youga not hurt Dib or steal organs or make baloney every again!"

"Call Bubbles?" Felix suggested. "He take Zim to prison?"

"Probably better to call the Federation," Daniel replied. "Best to keep Zim away from any planets he might want to conquer,"

" _Yes!"_ Dib cheered. The Pelekais looked at him.  
"Uh, yes. That's a great idea,"

"Before you turn me in…" Zim wheezed, still unmoved from where he had landed. "May I say one last thing?"

"What is it, stupidhead?" Stitch asked.

"GIR…" The Irken looked to his 'dog', who finally stopped his intimacy with the palm tree.  
"Activate Plan 6139438765312-D,"

" _Yes, Master!"_ the dog said in a deep, menacing computer voice, saluting his fallen commander.

GIR turned to the Pelekais and clutched the cheeks of his dog disguise, which gazed at his opponents with empty, crossed eyes. He ripped his false skin away, revealing a steel body whose appearance was clearly modeled after Zim's people.

His wide eyes lit up in a hellish red.

The Pelekais put their firsts up, ready as the robot charged at them on leg-mounted jets.

Stitch reached out to grab GIR, and their claws locked. GIR's chest opened, and Stitch braced himself for whatever was about to emerge from it.

' _Wake me up before you go-go,  
Don't leave me hangin' on like a yo-yo!'_

GIR _wheeeee_ d as he swung Stitch's arms back and forth in a childish dance.

Stitch said nothing, but he looked at each of his cousins like he was being held hostage.

"I said 6139438765312- _D,_ GIR!" Zim spat, managing to lift his head a little.

" _Ooooooooh!_ " GIR said, throwing his head back in realization. His mechanical voice has regressed to that of a toddler.  
"I thought you said twenty-two!"

He twisted behind Stitch and restrained him around the waist.

" _Woah man!"_ Stitch yelped as he was lifted into the air, extending his arms as he prepared to absorb the impact of the suplex.

"Cootchie cootchie coo!"

Stitch was stopped in mid-air, balanced on GIR's cold metal chest. The robot's wirey claws scurried through his fur.

" _Hey-hee-hee-hee-hee!_ " He cackled. " _Stop! Stop! Sto-hah-hah-hah-hap!_ "

"Hey! Youga ask per-mish-on before tickling!" Angel scolded, moving in to seize GIR.

The robot ducked her swooping arms, dropping Stitch in the process.

"Missed me! Missed me!" He dove under Angel's legs, then reached back and grasped her left ankle.  
"Now you gotta make me a pizza!"

" _Waugh!"_ Angel was upside-down, and then on her front, while GIR was on her back with her foot under his coil-like arm.

"Hey, your foot has a sticky thing on it!" The robot chirped as his fingers assaulted Angel's sole.

" _Na-ha-ha-ga! Na-ha-ha-ha-ga!"_ Angel roared with laughter. " _Make you-hoo-hoo a sticky thing-hee-hee-hee!"_

Bonnie and Felix crept up behind GIR, reaching out to grab him.

" _Surprise!"_ GIR's head spun around like an owl's, and his cold hands leaped at his two would-be attackers, landing in the space between the neck and the shoulder.

" _Hee-hee! Nah-hah-hah!"_ Felix giggled, sandwiching GIR's hand under his chin. " _That most ticklish pla-ha-ha-hace!"_

" _Mee-hee-heega nala-ha-ha-ha quee-hee-hee-heesta!"_ Bonnie said through her teeth in a grinning combination of laughing and growling.

Elastico's arm looped around GIR.

"Got you now!" The clown cheered, pulling GIR in and holding him upside-down.  
"Now…" He began, pointing a scolding finger at the robot's suddenly blank, blue-eyed face.  
"Surprise tickles only for cousins and very, very good friends. If _youga_ want to tickle, youga should _ask_ first,"

"...Can I tickles you?" GIR asked in the assuming tone of a student requesting a washroom break.

"No," Elastico's black eyes narrowed.

"Awwwwww. Not even a little?"

"I said no." He glared at the robot for a few seconds, and then…

" _Beep!"_ GIR's sharp finger extended from under Elastico's arm and poked his false red nose.

The clown went to smack the finger away, but before he could, it had jumped into his exposed armpit.

Elastico screamed with laughter, unable to form even the first syllable of a plea for mercy.

GIR wiggled his way out of Elastico's hold, only to find himself surrounded on four fronts; Clyde, Chopsuey, and Daniel forming a triangle around him, and Sparky above him.

"Just give up," Clyde growled. "Easy for youga,"

GIR stared blankly around him for several seconds, and then tilted his head. Four wires, each tipped with a metal hand, protruded from ports in his head; the nose, the ear, the scalp, and the back.

Chopsuey, Daniel, and Clyde each caught a wire, but the fourth snared Sparky's ankle.

" _Aw, mah-hah-hah-hah-han!"_ He shouted. " _Shou-hoo-hoo-hood have gone higher!"_ His body surged with electricity, but GIR only snickered as the snaking sparks bounced off of his metal head.

The robot elongated the wires trapped in his opponents' fists, stealing three quick chin tickles before yanking his appendages free.

"I want ice cream!" He declared as his leg-jets carried him in the downed Zim's direction.

"No ice cream, GIR!" The Irken commanded, his piercing voice still polluted by a pained hack.  
"Straight back to the ship!"

" _Chocolate chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip!"_ GIR scooped up his master and took to the skies, tailed by a thin streak of smoke.

Dib and the Pelekais watched as they shrank into the distance.

"What a couple of weirdos," Lilo scoffed. "Are you guys alright?"

"Yeah. Okitaka," Angel replied, rubbing her foot. "GIR is rough. He tickles scratchy,"

"And too hard…" Felix rubbed his neck. "Nothing worse than scratchy tickle,"

"He didn't ask first!" Elastico folded his arms. His rubbery face made even his pouting seem playful.  
"Very rude!"

Felix came up behind him and leaned on his shoulder.

"Cheer youga up with not-scratchy tickle, Ellie?" He purred.

This earned him a smile.

"Yes please, boojiboo." Elastico rubbed his furry cheek against Felix's.

This earned him a raspberry on his purple-spotted belly. His laughter was much more comfortable than it had been with GIR.

"Huh," Dib said, turning to Lilo. "I swear, Zim usually does some _real_ messed up stuff,"

"I believe you," she said, as calm as if she had not just met Zim for herself.  
"But it looks like he won't be doing anything for a while. Now you can relax,"

"I guess," Dib muttered.

He thought for a moment about how swiftly Lilo's cousins had dealt with Zim. After all of his own inventions and schemes, the most effective method was simply to stand back and let another alien face Zim instead. Could that mean that Zim had won in some way? Though the Irken had lost the battle, Dib had still not defeated him.

Perhaps, Dib thought, Zim was right. Perhaps Zim truly was superior to him.

"Hey," Lilo brought Dib back to reality. "Now that Zim's gone, you wanna go surfing with us?"

Dib accepted. Even if he embarrassed himself by tumbling into the water, it might at least purge the discomforting question from his mind for a while.

 **III**

Dib wondered if Lilo could tell that he was a terrible surfer.

Her cousins each doubled up on their own boards; Stitch with Angel, Bonnie with Clyde, Felix with Elastico, and Chopsuey with Daniel, while Sparky flew around them as they glided effortlessly along the rolling waves.

Lilo, however, had opted to keep her and Dib's board in the calmer parts of the water. Dib initially thought this was condescending of her, as if she were simplifying the activity for him, but her smile told him that she was trying to be kind.

"Does your dad do lots of experiments?" She asked him.

"All the time," he said, keeping his legs crossed on the board. "He does experiments at work, and then he comes home and does some more. I bet he even writes out his conclusions in his head while he sleeps,"

"Do you and your sister get lonely?" Her feet paddled in the translucent water.

"...You know, I never really thought about it," Dib answered. "Gaz is so sucked up in her video games, and I've been focusing on my paranormal investigations...I mean, _I_ notice sometimes, if I need his help with a new project, but...I usually have bigger fish to fry, you know?"

"Fish like Zim," Lilo added.

"Right,"

She smiled, but it was more like a frown in disguise.

"Do you like chop suey?" She asked, smiling more sincerely.

Dib looked past her at the waves in the distance. He found Chopsuey holding Daniel's hand as they leaned in opposite directions off of their board. The wave carried them as if it were conscious, curving and rising and sinking according to their movements. When they reached its end, they pulled each other back upright, and their noses touched.

They shut their eyes, smiling as if they could drift peacefully to sleep together right there on their feet.

"He seems nice," Dib said. "He's got cool hair,"

Lilo chuckled. "I mean the food. It's a Chinese dish,"

"Uh, no. I've never had any Chinese food. Just Bloaty's Pizza and whatever living or not-living mush they serve in my school's cafeteria,"

"Well, my sister's making some homemade chop suey. It's Felix's recipe. If you like, you could come over and try some,"

There was something warm inside Dib. He had felt hot many times in the past, especially whenever confronting Zim, but he couldn't remember ever feeling just warm. He suspected that it wasn't just the weather.

"Sure. Why not?"

Lilo smiled at him.

"What is this?!" A buzzing voice called from above.

Dib looked up and found Sparky hovering over Lilo, his pointed teeth shown in a playful grin and his blue eyes glowing with mischief.

"You guys naga surfing?"

"I wanted to talk to Dib, Sparky," Lilo leaned her head back to look up at him.

"Oh. Done talking?"

"I think so,"

"Then come on!"

Sparky dropped onto Lilo's shoulders, and she took hold of his ankles. He lifted her like a helicopter towing cargo, then rotated before dropping Lilo down onto Dib's shoulders.

"Hang on tight!" Lilo and Sparky declared.

Dib urgently clung to Lilo's ankles, and immediately found himself dangling high above the water.

Sparky carried them over the other surfers and the roaring waves, making Dib feel like he was swimming in the sky.

Dib found their destination; another of the Pelekais' towers balanced on a single board.

Clyde served as the base with Chopsuey and Daniel standing on each outstretched arm. Elastico was handstanding on Chopsuey's shoulders, and Felix did likewise on Daniel's. Bonnie was upside-down on Felix's left foot and Elastico's right foot. Stitch and Angel each stood with a single palm on one of Bonnie's feet.

Dib saw the structure that he was about to top, and the stacked Pelekais looked up at their approaching addition.

They cheered, and he screamed.

"You okay, Dib?" Lilo called over the roaring waves and her laughing cousins.

Dib only yelped as he found himself standing on Angel's right foot and Stitch's left foot.

"Just let us know if you want to get off!"

Dib considered it, but he felt stuck, and not just to the adhesive pads on Stitch and Angel's feet. He was frozen; not as he had been when the Experiments had startled him, but more hypnotized. He felt the chill of the sea wind on his face, the waves revving like a humongous motorcycle, the sensation of being parted from the ground and the sea which he could only describe as freedom.

It terrified and tickled him.

His screaming became a soft and automatic drone. His mind went blank, purged of any thoughts of his father or his sister or of Zim. He was barely even aware that he was on the water.

He felt happy, and that was all he was.

The surfing tower tilted with the wave and then dismantled. Dib was returned to the world with a trenchant jolt.

His heart was in his throat as he watched the Pelekais tumble into the sea, and as he wondered why he kept his position in the air.

Then he remembered that he was still holding onto Lilo, who was still holding onto Sparky, who was keeping them airborne. Dib looked up at them and found them laughing. Dib felt looser, closer to the water than to his supporters, and found that it was because Lilo was only holding onto one of Sparky's ankles now.

"You feelin' good, Dib?" She called down to him.

"Uh...Yeah. Just peachy." His voice came out more high-pitched than he thought it should have.

He glanced down at the dead wave riddled with ripples, then back up at Lilo, who sent him a playful smile.

She took a hand away from Sparky's ankle.

"Please don't," Dib said, still high-pitched. He repeated himself in his ordinary voice.

Lilo lifted a pinkie.

"Please," Dib urged over Sparky's buzzing snickering.

Lilo let go, and Dib was deafened by his own screaming mixed with Lilo and Sparky's laughter. He saw the electrician twirling in the air, and then there was nothing but blue as the world was silenced in a bubbling rumble.

Dib opened his eyes, thankful that he had left his glasses with Gaz, although he wasn't sure how attentive she was being of them. Despite the fuzziness of his vision, he was surprised at how clear and clean everything appeared.

Sun rays shimmered on the ocean floor far beneath Dib, making him feel like he was still up in the air, but without relying on the Pelekais to keep him aloft.

Schools of fish flew by in the space around him, all of them varying in sizes and colors, and many possessing unique features like stripes or longer fins. Like the Pelekais, Dib thought.

He looked straight down at the sandy floor, and there they were, smiling back up at him as they clung to two long green ropes, which Dib then realized were Elastico's legs elongated from above.

Dib was surprised to find the Pelekais so close to the ocean floor. They had fallen in first, and most of them were still at least five feet below him. They only exceptions were Daniel and Chopsuey; they were level with Dib, who noticed that, while they both clutched one of Elastico's legs, they were also holding on just as tightly to each other.

It seemed as if they were all like rocks in the water, which mystified Dib, who knew how light they were on land. His theory was further supported when the Pelekais began climbing arm-over-arm up Elastico's legs, which appeared to be an exerting task even with their remarkable strength.

Dib ascended himself, and tasted the fresh Hawaiian air again after four upwards strokes.

The first thing he saw was Elastico sitting on a surfboard, looking down at his legs in the water, and bouncing lightly as he hummed in a smooth voice that sounded like an Elvis impression.

" _Always on my miiiiind...Always on myyyyy mind…"_

His soaked ruff stuck to his shoulders, and the purple spot on his belly was gone.

He stretched his arms out like a clothesline for his resurfacing cousins, who spread out along the limbs before shaking themselves dry. When they were done, their fur was all puffed out, making them seem like they were made of cotton candy.

Lilo resurfaced beside Dib, laughing from her very first breath. Sparky flew down behind her, reclining in the air with his arms behind his head, and he and his cousins laughed too.

Lilo looked right at Dib. She stopped laughing, and though her smile remained, it seemed to threaten to vanish.

Something traveled up Dib's throat, and when he opened his mouth, he discovered that it was laughter. The torrent of emotions that had been building up in his guy escaped him, and it felt wonderful.

Lilo and her cousins laughed with him.

For once in his life, he did not worry or scheme or scream to the sky in fury. For once, he just laughed.

 **IV**

Piloting a pod back to his base in the filthy human town while his body burned with pain was infuriating enough for Zim.

Stopping midway to indulge GIR's ear-splitting wishes for ice cream, and then having said repellent gunk rubbed in his face the rest of the way, was enough to make Zim want to puke acid all over the planet, and then use the noxious ball to bludgeon GIR and Dib and his filthy new friends to death.

But since Irkens could not puke acid, and since he also did not have enough acid to cover the planet, and since he also was not strong enough to lift a planet, Zim knew that he would have to direct his anger towards a different solution.

As it happened, he had been developing a new machine that just might be of use to him now.

" _GIR!"_ Zim commanded as he limped into his dimly lit base, filled with glorious Irken technology of purple metal and the most intimidating shades of green.  
" _Bring forth the DNA samples you collected from those disgustingly colorful creatures!"_ He held his hand out, and received a scoop of mint chocolate chip at the back of his head. It burned at the back of his skull, even after he had shaken it off, but not as much as the ghost of the punch still festering in his squeedlyspooch.  
" _THE DNA SAMPLES, GIR!"_

"Ooooooooooooooooooooh," GIR chirped through a mouthful of ice cream. "Why didn't you say so?" A port in his chest whirred open, and out came a metal fist clutching a collection of blue, pink, yellow, red, and green fur.

"Excellent work, GIR!" Zim snatched the fur away, and held it to the air as if expecting lightning to strike it.  
"Disgusting fur from the most disgusting parts of those disgusting creatures' disgusting bodies,"

"Aw, _I_ thought they were fluffy," GIR whined.

"Yes, but they didn't punch you in the squeedlyspooch, GIR!" Zim retorted. "Now, prime the gene-splicing machine!"

"Okey-dokey!"

As the robot set off for his task, stuffing the remainder of his ice cream down his throat as he did, the enormous screen looking down on the lair like a disapproving entity flashed with the message; _Incoming Transmission._

There was a microsecond of static, and then Zim was faced by his leaders, the Almighty Tallest, so named for their being nearly three times the height of any other living Irken. Though they were otherwise identical, they looked to Zim like awe-inspiring gods, no matter how bemused or exhausted they appeared.

" _My Tallest!"_ Zim cheered, his voice reducing to that of a child. "I see you received my invitation!"

"Yes, we did, Zim," Tallest Red groaned. "And all six hundred and ninety-eight reiterations of it. We were tempted to see if you'd go higher, but then my brain started bleeding, and the doctor said it'd be less suicidal to just contact you,"

"Now, what was it you wanted us to see?" Tallest Purple asked, half-heartedly shoveling potato chips into his mouth.  
"Please don't let it be more squirrels,"

"The squirrels were a perfectly efficient plan!" Zim pointed a declarative finger, standing as tall as he could with the pain that still encompassed him.  
"I just didn't use enough liquid nitrogen! Anyway, I'd originally invited you so I could show you the dismembered limbs of my longtime nemesis on this planet!"

"The kid with the big head?" Tallest Purple asked through a mouthful.

"Yes, that's the one,"

"Right, well," Tallest Red sighed. "Bring 'em out so we can get back our more important responsibilities as leaders of the Irken Empire,"

"Yeah, all those donuts aren't going to eat themselves," Tallest Purple added.

"Yes, well, um," Zim cleared his throat. "There's been a change of plans, but I still have something to show you…" He looked left, expecting to find the metal dome against the wall whirring to life, but instead, he found GIR offering him two handfuls of bologna slices.

" _Not meat slicer, GIR!"_ Zim roared. " _Gene splicer!"_

"Are you sure?" The robot tilted his wide-eyed head.

"A million gazillion percent sure!"

GIR stuffed the meat into his cheeks before turning back to the dome on the wall. He hit a big green button beside it, and it lit up like the malevolent grin on Zim's face.

"I am going to infuse myself with DNA from this!" He held the fur up for the Tallest to see.

"A ball of fluff?" Tallest Purple asked.

"Not just fluff, my Tallest, but DNA from what may be the strongest species in the galaxy! And now their strength shall be mine!"

Zim marched over to the sizzling dome, opened a metal box protruding from its side like a tumor, and trapped the fur inside it.

"Hang on…" Tallest Red muttered, stroking his sharp chin with one hand as the other snuck into his co-ruler's bag of chips.  
"Colorful fur...Strongest in the galaxy...Did they have doggie noses too, Zim?"

"Yeah," Zim answered, stepping into the rumbling machine as casually as if it were a shower.  
"Except for one; it had some long appendage instead. At first, I thought it was a long dribble of snot,"

"I think you might've found some of Jacques Hamsterviel's army,"

Some of whose what?"

"Those genetically engineered super-monsters from Turo,"

"Where-o?"

"They terrorized the Galactic Federation for years before they disappeared. We lost hundreds of potential invadees to them,"

"It was all over the news," Tallest Purple added, crushing his empty bag into a ball before tossing it over his shoulder.

"I haven't time to watch current events when I am too busy creating them!" Zim declared as the roaring of the machine grew louder.

"Actually, some would argue that being well-versed in current problems is essential for shaping the future,"

"So you don't know exactly what those things are, and you're going to put their DNA into your body?" Tallest Red asked.

"Yeah, why not?"

Zim's vision was flooded with a green light as the machine screamed in his ears. He thought he had gone deaf until Tallest Red spoke again.

"Hey, Zim, on the off chance that you don't blow yourself up right there, could you send those things' bodies to us for the lab guys?"

"Or at least so we can make some soft rugs?" Tallest Purple added. "I get achy standing on metal all the time,"

"It shall be done, my Tallest!" Zim declared. "As soon as I-"

He devolved into screaming.

A pain like thousands of the filthy creatures' fists ripped through his body. His skull struggled to escape his head, and jaws chomped at his innards. His spine climbed up his back to stab him in the neck.

It was the most wonderful thing Zim had ever felt.

 **V**

 _Mama she done told me,  
Papa done told me too._

At Lilo's house, Dib discovered that her family's abnormality didn't stop at its alien members.

 _Son, that gal you're foolin' with._

First, there was Nani. Dib thought it was strange that she looked half the age of his father, but then he remembered that Nani was Lilo's sister, not her mother. She was more than twice Lilo's age, but the resemblance was still there. Dib would have just as easily believed that she was Lilo's time traveling future self.

 _She ain't no good for you._

Then there was David, who he almost accidentally greeted as 'Mr. Pelekai' before discovering that he was only Nani's boyfriend. The playful way he scooped up Lilo and Stitch when he saw them almost fooled Dib again into thinking that he was Lilo's father.

 _But that's alright._

Lastly, there was Spooky, who Dib could not possibly mistake for anything else. He remembered learning in science class that water took the shape of its container (which was promptly demonstrated by Ms. Bitters ripping a toilet from the boys' washroom and showing it to the class). Spooky, however, was like water liberated from all containers. He slithered and curved in whichever direction or shape he liked.

 _That's alright._

"You can probably start on the rice now, Spooks," Nani said to him as she and David each jiggled two frying pans filled with chopped vegetables.

 _That's alright now, mama, anyway you do._

"Straight away, Nani." Spooky's watery form reached out and picked up a large cup of rice on the table. It seemed to float in the corner of water that was supposed to be a hand before being poured into a pot on the stove.

 _That's alright now, mama, anyway you do._

His liquid body swayed with the music emitting from the record player in the next room.

"How long are you here, Dib?" David asked, tossing the contents of his pan into the air and catching the vast majority of them when they returned. The few which hit the counter he quickly picked up and flicked back into the pan.

"'Till my dad finishes his experiment," Dib answered. "He has a camera drone here so he can let me and Gaz know straight away when it's safe to come home...You guys must get a lot of visitors around here with all the tourists,"

"Sometimes I think there are more tourists than locals," David laughed. "But we've never met a paranormal investigator before,"

He and Nani looked down between them and found Chopsuey gazing lustfully at the dancing veggies.

"Almost ready, Chop," Nani said, stroking his snowy mohawk. He purred and leaned against her hip.

"Smells so good, Nani…" Chopsuey licked his lips. "Meega think it will be best chop suey ever,"

"Thanks. Hey, if you guys set the table, I'll let you have the first helping,"

As Chopsuey eagerly retrieved a stack of plates from a cupboard behind him and distributed them to his cousins, Dib found himself still mentally referring to Nani and David as Lilo's parents. He wondered where her actual parents were. He felt a ghostly presence at the front door behind him; the feeling he got when he arrived home before his father, who would enter minutes or hours later.

 _That's alright now, mama, anyway you do._

He didn't say anything to the Pelekais, but he had a feeling that the ghostly presence had been at the door for a long time.

"Are you keen on the music of Elvis Presley, Dib?" Spooky asked. His voice was clear and deep, and though the length of the room was between them, Dib's ears rumbled as if Spooky were speaking straight into them like microphones.

"I, uh, haven't listened to much of his stuff,"

"This one coming up is my favorite,"

 _We're caught in a trap,_

 _I can't walk out,_

 _Because I love you too much, baby._

As if by hypnotic command, Lilo and her furry cousins went from simply setting down their plates to dancing with them.

 _Why can't you see,  
What you're doing to me?_

They spun with their plates on their heads, waved them at the ceiling, and then bowed to place them gingerly on the table.

 _When you don't believe a word I say?_

They returned to their surfing partners. Dib wasn't ready when Lilo took his hands.

 _We can't go on together,  
With suspicious minds._

He hoped he wasn't blushing.

 _And we can't build our dreams._

Lilo dipped Dib. Now he knew he was blushing.

 _On suspicious minds._

His eyes rolled upwards, finding the others dancing on the floor-turned-ceiling. Angel dipped Stitch, Clyde dipped Bonnie, Chopsuey dipped Daniel, and Elastico dipped Felix.

 _So if an old friend I know._

"What are you doing, Sparky?" Spooky asked as he wriggled in the electrician's arms.

 _Stops by to say hello._

"Want dance with youga,"

"You always dance with Lilo,"

"Lilo dance with Dib, so I dance with youga,"

"If you insist…"

 _Would I still see suspicion in your eyes?_

Spooky sprouted things like fingerless hands, which curled around Sparky's waist and neck to dip him.

"But at least let me lead,"

 _Here we go again,  
Asking where I've been._

Everyone was let up, and the dipped partners each retaliated with a different move.

 _You can't see the tears are real._

Stitch lifted Angel into the air, letting her handstand on his palms.

 _I'm crying._

Bonnie picked Clyde up under his back and spun him around.

 _We can't go on together._

Felix took Elastico's hands and swung him under his legs. The clown _wheeed_ as he came back up.

 _With suspicious minds._

Daniel pulled Chopsuey into a bear hug before burying his nose in his furry cheek.

 _And we can't build our dreams._

Dib looked over Lilo's shoulder and saw Spooky leaping over Sparky like a waterfall, while Nani and David left their cooking for a moment to share a short tango of their own.

 _On suspicious minds._

Dib thought hurriedly for a move to follow Lilo's, but in his haste, he could only think to do another dip.

 _Oh, let our love survive._

It seemed enough to amuse Lilo.

 _Or dry the tears from your eyes._

As he looked at her, listening as her laughter harmonized with Elvis, he felt the warmth in his gut getting hotter.

 _Let's don't let a good thing die._

It was still different from the heat that Zim made him feel. Rather than lava, he felt like he was lying by a fire after walking home in shoulder-high snow.

 _When, honey, you know._

He pulled Lilo up, and past her and the other dancing pairs, he saw something staring at them through the window. In the split second that he had to look at it, he couldn't tell exactly what it was, other than that it was hulking and about to smash the window.

 _I've never lied to you._

" _Look out!"_ Dib cried.

He ducked to the floor, pulling Lilo down with him.

Her cousins did nothing, either because they were too slow, or because they knew that the torrent of glass would only bounce harmlessly off of them like bean bags.

 _We're caught in a trap._

Dib felt a few shards charge through his hair, and gasped with relief when they stopped before he could feel any cuts.

 _I can't walk out._

" _Hey!"_ Stitch shouted. " _Knock on door, stupidhead!"_

Dib got up onto his hands and knees and looked up at the intruder.

 _Because I love you too much, baby._

Fur grew randomly out of his body, sometimes in large patches of blue, red, yellow, green, and pink, and sometimes interrupted by exposed sections of pale green skin.

 _I'm caught in a trap._

His body was carried by two skinny booted legs. All eight of his arms grew out of a torso shielded by ripped purple armor. Each arms was different, but most of them were meaty and furry. One had blue fur, one pink, one red which fizzled with green fire, one yellow that surged with electric sparks, one green which dangled like a noodle, one olive which had traded its fingers for doubled muscle mass, and the two closest to his neck were scrawny and black.

 _I can't walk out._

His left ear, the only visible one, was like a long multicolored wing. The single antennae protruding from the right side of his head was split down the middle between yellow and pink.

 _Because I love you too much, baby._

A trunk hung over his repugnant yellow teeth, and above it were two pupilless eyes; one pink, and the other torn between blue and black.

 _I'm caught in a trap._

Dib saw Chopsuey running past him out of the corner of his eye. At first he was concerned that he was fleeing, but Dib knew first hand what running in terror looked like, and that was not how Chopsuey looked.

 _I can't walk out._

"Behold, insects!" Zim declared, holding out all of his mismatched arms in a grand and ghastly display.  
"The future of your _filthy_ planet!"

 _Because I love you too much, baby._

" _Youga_ filthy one, Zim!" Angel retorted. "Just look in mirror!"

"I have harnessed your powers! I am now stronger than all of you combined!"

"And youga _smellier_ than all combined!"

" _You dare to criticize my odor?! You_ who reek of coconuts and salty water- _AAAAAIIIIIEEEEERRRGH!"_

 _I'm caught in a trap._

Something dived into Zim's mouth and burst out of his cheek. When his writhing and shaking and calmed down, Dib got a good look at what it was.

 _I can't walk out._

An arrow.

As the Irken moaned in pain, Dib looked back and found Chopsuey perched on the staircase in a manner fitting of a statue in a courtyard.

He was armed with a wooden bow, painted green and almost equal to his own height. A quiver brimming with arrows was strapped to his back. In his lower pair of arms (which frightened Dib at first, but not nearly as much as the sight of the new-and-improved Zim.) he held a metal glove as big as his torso.

 _Because I love you too much, baby._

"Clyde, catch!"

He threw the gauntlet. Clyde caught it and slid it onto his fingerless hand. The metal digits wiggled to life as the palm lit up.

 _I'm caught in a trap._

" _You parasite!"_ Zim spat as he tore the arrow from his cheek.  
"First you puncture my squeedlyspooch, now you tear my flesh with primitive human weapons!"

 _I can't walk out._

" _Youga_ parasite, Zim!" Chopsuey retorted. "Try to shoot us, break into home, turn into monster to hurt us!"

"But I haven't _succeeded_ yet! If anything, _I'm_ currently more _your_ victim than you are mine!"

"...That does not make sense-"

" _It is you who does not make sense!"_

Chopsuey sighed and shook his head as if at a disobedient toddler.

 _Because I love you too much, baby._

"No longer will I stand for yours or anyone else's abuse! With my newfound, I shall annihilate you and Dib-stink and any others who would-"

"Oh, shut up!" Clyde opened his glowing metal palm, and a bolt of blue energy leaped out of it and shoved Zim out the way he had entered.

 _We're caught in a trap._

Stitch leaped out of the smashed window after the Irken, and was immediately followed by his cousins.

Spooky slithered at Chopsuey's heels like a living puddle.

 _I can't walk out._

Dib stared at the window as he and the other humans were left with nothing but Elvis singing over the sizzling stove.

 _Because I love you too much, baby._

His eyes rolled to find Nani and David taking two of the pans from the stove, bouncing them in their fists as if they were baseball bats.

Pans might help, but Dib thought he could come up with something better.

He remained frozen on his knees, partly from Zim's macabre new visage still etched in his mind's eye, but mostly from his brain working at double speed to formulate a plan.

He rewound to every moment he had spent that day with the Pelekais, scrutinizing them for even the slightest weakness that Zim may have inherited.

Not coconuts…

Not tickling…

He remembered surfing; all the Pelekais soaked...Except for Sparky. Of course; the electricity in his body would be deadly if he got too wet.

If Sparky could be hurt by water, then so could Zim.

He turned to Lilo.

" _Water!"_ They spoke at the same time.

 _I'm caught in a trap._

Dib looked at her for a moment, savoring the look she was giving him.

Better than a smile or laughter, it was the look of understanding that he cherished. The feeling that he had just blurted another of his schemes against Zim, and somebody had looked at him and understood him.

 _I can't walk out._

It was the warmest he had ever felt.

"Jinx!" Lilo chirped.

 _Because I love you too much, baby._

 **VI**

Stitch didn't like it.

Even against a mish-mashed monster like Zim, he didn't like fighting.

The glaring and snarling faces of his cousins, his claws against his palms in his fists, the hateful way his heart and head pounded as he charged at his opponent.

Zim reached out to grab him, so he ducked and came back up with an uppercut into the Irken's neck.

He didn't like it, but he sure was good at it.

He felt footsteps in the sand behind him. He dropped to one knee, striking Zim down the chin on the way, and turning his back into a stepping stone for Angel.

She hopped onto him on one foot, then sent the other into Zim's chin in a leaping backflip. Her antennae snaked downward, snared Zim's neck, and pulled Angel in for a headbutt sending Zim to the sandy ground.

"Nice one, boojiboo," Stitch and Angel chimed as Zim recovered.

"Maybe youga need help from robot," Stitch teased him.

Angel cocked a snook and blew a raspberry.

"I no longer require meager servants!" Zim yelled, pointing an electrified finger at his opponents.  
"Least of all ice cream-eating _imbeciles_ like GIR!"

As he ranted, Stitch kept his eyes on the puddle slithering through the sand towards Zim.

He had to admit; he was excited by Spooky's transformations in battle.

The puddle grew and locked Zim from behind in a full nelson. Two Irken heads appeared, one red-eyed and the other purple-eyed, and screamed in Zim's face.

" _You are the worst Invader the Irken Empire has ever seen!"_ They roared together.

"M-M-My Tallest?" Zim whimpered.

" _You are hereby exiled on the charge of incompetence, stupidity, and making us throw up in disgust at your terrible invading skills and your ugly face!"_

" _NO!"_ Zim jumped backwards and landed on his back, crushing the 'Tallest' him.

Spooky slipped out from under the hulking Irken.

"Ah, good," Zim seized the shapeshifter in two of his new fists.  
"I was scared you were _really_ The Tallest. What a sweet relief,"

His body pulsated with a dome of lightning.

Stitch's brain quaked at Spooky's screams.

Sparky flew overhead, rocketing towards Zim like a bullet. He passed unharmed through the electric field, then brought his feet forward into Zim's face. The lightning fizzled away as the Irken stumbled backwards, nearly falling but ultimately keeping his stance.

"Thank you, Sparky," Spooky said.

"Youga better dancer, but meega better fighter," the electrician teased as he scooped up his cousin and flew out of Zim's reach.

" _Get back here you-"_ Zim spat, chasing after them.

"Don't run!" Bonnie leaped at his face, grabbing it and hurling it into the sand.  
"We come to youga!" She landed on her hands, then sent her leg out in a roundhouse.

The recovering Zim leaned to the right and seized her ankle.

" _AHA!"_

"Aw, man, no fair!"

Zim spun Bonnie over his head like a lasso and tossed her.

Clyde caught her and threw her back at him. She tucked herself into a ball on the way and hit Zim in the forehead.

" _Ow!"_ The Irken cried, clutching his forehead as Bonnie landed on his shoulders.  
"Why you, you...You! _OW OW OW!"_

Felix reached up and grabbed his trunk, yanking him down like a rabid animal.

" _Let go of my trunk you filthy piece of filth!"_

" _My_ trunk!" Felix objected. "Youga _stole_ it! And meega have bath every day!"

Felix and Bonnie's fists barraged Zim's head.

Stitch sidestepped around them, ready to intervene if Zim counterattacked. Angel, Daniel, Spooky, Chopsuey, Sparky, and Clyde helped him surround the Irken.

Bonnie seemed to be enjoying herself. Stitch didn't like to see her smiling at a battle; he felt like she was faking it, or at least he hoped that she was.

Looking at Felix was worse; with each blow dealt, another tear escaped his black eyes. With each tear, his punches became harder, and Zim screamed louder.

Elastico flipped over Zim, ensnaring his neck in an elongated arm, and then running as fast and as far as he could.

When his arm had stretched a good twenty feet between him and Zim, Felix and Bonnie abandoned their assault, and Elastico jumped. He soared over the sand, and when he was closing in on Zim, he brought his feet up.

The Irken was flying for a moment on Elastico's feet. He landed with his stomach on Clyde's metal fist, and was greeted with a headbutt.

" _ENOUGH!"_ Zim hurt everyone's ears as he clutched Clyde's cheeks in a blue-furred hand.  
" _I WILL NOT BE HUMILIATED! NOT THIS TIME! NOT EVER AGAIN!"_

He brought his red fist back. It burst into green flame, and dove for Clyde's exposed neck.

"Some say the world will end in fire…"

Daniel stepped between them, and caught Zim's fist in his own burning hand.

"Some say in ice…" He muttered as he brought his foot down on Zim's calf.

He screamed again.

"Youga scream too much," Clyde said, rubbing his freed jaw with his flesh hand.

"From what I've tasted of desire…" Daniel grabbed Zim at the throat and the stomach, lifting him over his head like a bench press.

He nodded at Chopsuey, who nodded back and held out an arrow.

"I hold with those who favor fire…" Daniel brought a spare arm out, tossing a ball of plasma out to light Chopsuey's arrow.  
"But if I had to perish twice…"

They each launched their projectiles.

"I think I know enough of hate…"

The arrow met Zim's thigh in the air.

"To say that for destruction ice…"

The Irken hit the sand face-first and skidded towards Stitch and Angel's feet.

"Is also great and would suffice…"

Stitch looked down at Zim as he and Angel each raised a fist. His multicolored eyes were flooding.

For a moment, he was transported back into space. He was 626 again, looking down upon a Federation soldier fresh out of the training camps, and pleading with his eyes to let him see tomorrow.

He hadn't listened to him then. Perhaps he would listen now.

Then he remembered what Dib had told him about the stolen organs.

He was not 626.

And Zim was no soldier.

He looked at Angel, and she nodded.

They knew they were not monsters.

" _NO!"_

Zim grabbed them both by an ankle.

" _I TOLD YOU! NEVER AGAIN!"_

Stitch was suddenly upside-down, looking at his cousins lined up on the sand, and feeling the most crushing pain possess his right leg.

Angel's antennae snaked towards Zim's legs, but they were caught in one of his lower fists.

"Now, if I see any of you disgusting animals make even the faintest disgusting twitch of your disgusting noses, _I will rip your disgusting friends limb from disgusting limb!"_

The others were frozen; all ready to attack, but none of them even blinking.

Zim snickered. Stitch could feel his murky breath blowing from his trunk and onto his back.

"That's better...You know, I think I'll do it anyw- _AH!"_

There was a loud and painful _clang._

Zim swiveled around, allowing Stitch and Angel to find two frying pans on the sand below their heads.

They looked up and found Nani and David. Lilo and Dib stood between them, armed with a hose trailing from the porch above them.

They glared as if ready to fire a gun.

Stitch was particularly impressed by Dib; behind his glasses, his eyes were even more condemning than Gantu's.

The pleasant surprise was short-lived for Stitch; Zim grabbed his ears, and clenched harder on his ankle.

" _That's it!"_ The Irken shouted, turning back to his alien opponents.  
" _I'm ripping these two up, and sending their hides to be used as rugs for My Tallest!"_

Stitch met Daniel's eyes, and an idea struck him. He wiggled his fingers, and Daniel nodded.

He saw Angel and Chopsuey nodding as well.

Perfect.

" _The rest of you are welcome to run! The chase will be most sporting!"_

Stitch felt Zim's breath in his ear. He felt another clench, and then he couldn't feel his ears or his leg.

"Let's see how you like it, you dookie," The Irken whispered.

"Maybe next time, stupidhead,"

Stitch and Angel reached out. He received a ball of plasma from Daniel and she received an arrow from Chopsuey.

Both gifts went into Zim's mismatched eyes.

Zim released them, clutching his eyes as he let out his most ear-splitting scream yet.

" _NO! GET BACK HERE!"_ He lashed out blindly for Stitch and Angel, but even with a numb ankle each, they were too quick for him.

" _Now, Lilo!"_ Sparky called, taking to the skies and unleashing a torrent of lightning down at Zim.

Lilo and Dib twisted the hose's nozzle.

Zim's screams drowned out the agonized buzzing of the soaked electricity. The Irken was a silhouette in a smoking cloud as Dib and the Pelekais watched on.

Finally, the water and the lightning stopped. The smoke lifted to reveal a much darker Zim than before.

His colorful eyes were up at the perfectly blue sky, as if reaching for His Tallest to come and save him.

"Dib…" He whispered, and then fell on his back.

Sparky landed beside him and put his ear to his chest.

"Not dead," he said. "Just asleep,"

"Good, long sleep," Chopsuey growled.

"Where's his ship?" Daniel asked. "We'd better contact the Federation,"

"You guys alright?" Lilo ran alongside Dib to Stitch and Angel.

"Yeah, all good," Stitch said.

"You sure? Your feet…"

Stitch and Angel looked down, only then realizing that they were each standing on one foot.

"Will be okay. Look worse than feel,"

"Youga great, Dib." Angel hopped to Dib and threw an arm over his shoulder.

"Oh...Thanks…" He looked over his shoulder at Zim, who was surrounded by Nani, David, Sparky, Bonnie, Clyde, and Spooky.  
"So...That's it for Zim? We're gonna hand him over to the Federation and he's all done?"

"Right," Angel replied. "Thanks for telling us about Zim,"

"...Even though he ended up copying your powers and becoming a hodgepodge monster?" His head was down. His eyes had forgotten the condemning look they had given Zim, and were reduced to those of a guilty child.

"Not your fault," Stitch said. "Youga friend. Help _us_ , not Zim,"

Dib looked up, seeming surprised at his words.

Stitch wondered why he was surprised at his words.

He thought about asking, but didn't.

"You're our friend, Dib," Lilo added. "We'd always help you, even against hodgepodge monsters,"

"...Thanks, you guys," Dib whispered. He smiled at them, and then threw his arms around all three of them.  
"Thanks so much…"

His arms were tight, just as Stitch thought a hug should be. This one was especially tight; the level of tightness he had known from his saddest friends. From Lilo at her parents' grave, from Chopsuey after they had rescued him from Hamsterviel, from Daniel the day he came to stay with them.

Though the hug was sad, it made Stitch happy. He never felt happier than when he was gifted with this kind of hug. The kind that meant he made someone sad happy.

He felt a presence behind him; Dan, Chop, Ellie, and Felix come to join in, of course.

" _Such a charming display,"_

 **VII**

Zim darted awake.

He couldn't see, but the scorching pain ripping through him was vanishing by the second.

He could still hear. Better in his new left ear than his right, but he could hear.

He mainly heard crying. He'd know the Dib-stink's cries anywhere, and the rest were clearly his repulsive new human friends. Dib-stink's crying was different; Zim had mainly known cries of terror or pain from him. These cries were softer. Defeated. Sad.

Pathetic.

He listened closer, and heard the filthy 'experiment' things breathing. Zim knew these breaths as those of someone on the verge of a slow and painful death, otherwise known as music. But these breaths went on for a while. Pain, then.

It was still music.

Zim's excitement grew. His pulse increased as he listened for the voices of the incredible warriors who had vanquished his enemies for him.

He found them, and though he felt nobody beside him, the voices were in his ears.

" _Such pitiful, unambitious creatures,"_ the voice of a young man. His soft, scornful words harmonized with a sliding metal sound, like a sword returning to a sheath.  
" _They would have all the cosmos at their feet, but they squander their power performing tricks for mere mortals...Perhaps with your magic, mistress, they shall regain their lost sense of conquest,"_

" _It's because they were scared,"_ this one was rough, and muffled by some kind of cloth.  
" _They came to fear the extent of their own power. How fascinating; that things so invulnerable can still feel fear...This one, for instance...He might crush me with only two fingers...But he cries as his heart is taken from him…"_

" _I'm only curious about the bow and arrow,"_ this voice was slimiest of all, and echoed as if from within a helmet.  
" _Relax, friend, you won't be needing it any longer...You think he has it 'cause he's the runt? No, can't be; lookit the girl one there, only two-thirds his height...No, I bet he likes his kills_ messy. _Ain't nothin' better than watchin' your enemies writhe around as they die…"_

Zim's vision gradually returned; he could now make out the black outlines of what was in front of him.

A cloaked figure faced him.

" _You're awake,"_ she said, her voice also within his ears.

"Y-Yes...Uh...Just preserving my energies before I _decimate_ the _filthy creatures,"_

" _Oh, I should hope not,"_ the figure responded with a soft, malevolent chuckle.  
" _My cohorts and I have just repurposed them for our cause. I would hate to lose such valuable new assets. But if decimation is what peaks your interests, then I have an offer that may interest you,"_

"You mean...You would repurpose _me?!"_

" _Oh, no, not you, my dear. What I have done to your enemies, and the enemies of my friends here, has made them into the foot soldiers for my own conquest. But you are no mere soldier, are you, Zim? You are a leader. A conqueror,"_

"Yes, a conqueror! A destroyer! An emperor!"

" _And there would be plenty of it all for you alongside my friends and I. You would get the vengeance and the domination you seek. If you accept, of course,"_

"Yes! Yes! A thousand, million, gabazillion times, I accept!"

The figure chuckled again.

" _That's exactly what I wanted to hear...Hold still, now…"_

Zim's vision improved. Behind the figure, he saw the filthy creatures lines up like a company of Irken Invaders. Their black eyes had turned yellow. He could see some color; the yellow of the sand, the blue of the sky, but the creatures were still black, as was the figure it front of him.

Black like shadows.

The figure knelt down it front of Zim, and he saw her hood. Two horns curled out of it.

Zim's limited vision was flooded with a scarlet light as he felt something enter his chest.

Whatever was inside him pulled, draining him, but he didn't know of what. Whatever it was, he felt refreshed, like whatever he was losing had been dragging him down all this time, and he was left only with what would enhance him.

But it hurt.

It hurt so much.

He remembered when he had been in the gene splicer, and thinking that it had been the most wonderful thing he had ever felt.

He changed his mind.

This was it.

 _ **DOOM,**_ **or** _ **Invader Zim x Lilo & Stitch**_

 **Season 1, Episode 4**

 **NEXT TIME ON** _ **JUSTICE LEAGUE INFINITE!**_

Three archeologists find themselves raiding the same tomb.

What begins as their regular mystery soon becomes a battle to survive the monsters lurking within.

But these monsters are far from anything they have fought before.

Should they fail, they will find themselves becoming the very thing they are facing.

 _Coming soon!_


	6. S1E5: Raiders

**Season 1, Episode 5:**

 _ **Raiders**_

 **I**

Perspective played a significant role in Lara Croft's line of work.

For instance, the wide path through the wheat field meant that somebody had beaten her to the cave. On the other hand, it made it infinitely easier to travel through the field via motorcycle.

Lara was certain that this was the most vast wheat field on the planet. But she was thankful to have sun and steady terrain for a change, instead of rain and snow and steep mountain slopes and crevices too wide for even an Olympic jumper to cross. Her only complaint was that she felt only mildly humid in her black leather jacket, but she knew she would be thankful for it in the chill of the subterranean.

If Lada had her way, she would conduct her explorations exclusively in places like this. But nobody ever buried anything worthwhile where it was easy to find.

This time, however, may be an exception. Satellites had recently detected a cave deep within the British countryside; a cave which had never been seen before. In fact, all previous recordings of the area had shown nothing but a solid rock wall. Some shrugged it off as the result of a mining expedition, although there were no records of any excavations in that area.

Lara knew from experience that anything appearing out of nowhere meant danger, adventure, and more than likely something supernatural.

All specialties of Lara Croft, Tomb Raider.

And, of course, there was the chance of something to sell to the curators back home.

The path finally ended right outside the cave, and sure enough, the competition's jeep was parked outside it. It was a dirty old thing; most likely bought cheap if they hadn't had the nerve to steal it.

Lara shut her bike off, leaving her with nothing but the calm breeze and a grumbling plane overhead.

She dismounted, approached the darkness stretching eternally into the earth, and switched on her flashlight.

"Ready or not, here I come,"

 **II**

Lara knew that nearly every hidden cavern began with either a puzzle or a trap. Granted, the two were often paired up.

Shining her flashlight around the perpetual darkness, Lara found that she was in a room as wide as a foyer. What remained of the floor ahead of her was made up of stone tiles with symbols carved into them. A seemingly random assortment, thanks to either the cave's other visitor or ages of decay, had fallen into the gaping chasm of blackness beneath, which called out to Lara as if it were starving.

The remaining tiles led to an archway, although there were several possible routes.

One path to the archway; dozens to the darkness below.

"Thanks for the head start, friend," Lara said, picking up a long stick and moving onward.  
"I like forward to meeting you. Assuming you're not down there,"

She placed the end of the stick on a tile and leaned on it like a cane. When it kept still, she carried on.

Lara found that the symbols were Roman numerals, and found another test of perspective. On the one hand, some may call her a stupid cheater for skipping what was most likely a simple multiplication riddle. On the other hand, she didn't see the point in wasting time and energy on mathematics when she could devise a much simpler solution herself.

"Work smarter, not harder," she whispered, moving straight ahead when the next tile passed the test.

"You know, they say talking to yourself is the first sign of madness," somebody called out from behind her. His voice was cocky and smug; qualities which Lara recognized in tourists, collectors, and competitors, all of which irritated her.  
"But maybe I'm not one to talk,"

She turned around to look at her latest hindrance. She was expecting an oversized camera or a condescending hat, but his attire was actually no more complex than her own; a simple green shirt, beige jeans, and hiking boots. He was traveling even lighter than her; a flashlight in his hand, three grenades on his belt, and a pistol in a shoulder holster. Lara had brought all of that and another gun.

He had spiky black hair, and a chiseled chin with a stubble that suggested a very particular amount of care in looking like he didn't care. His mouth seemed rigged to a swashbuckling smirk which Lara wondered if anyone had ever been charmed by.

Perhaps she just didn't see it. Perhaps she was either too smart or too thick.

"You in the jeep or the bike?" He asked.

"What makes you think it's not both?" She retorted.

"Well, I can't imagine why anyone would wanna run off and leave someone like you behind in a place like this, unless they fell down there, but I feel like I would've heard them screaming on the way in...Mind if I join you?" He stepped out onto the same panel Lara had started on.

" _Watch it!"_ Lara snapped as he came closer. "You could kill us both!"

"Hey, relax, I'm not some kinda amateur, alright?" He managed to sound somewhat serious.  
"I've been doing this my whole life." He offered his hand; his knuckles were cracked and blackened.  
"Nathan Drake,"

Lara looked at her own hands, which bore just as much damage despite the fingerless gloves she always wore.

Perhaps this man was more than his game show host demeanor. Lara silently admitted that there didn't appear to be much more that differed between them. She would let him tag along, and if he proved to be incompetent after all, she could always simply leave him to his fate.

She shook his hand.

"Lara Croft,"

"There. Now we're not strangers," he flashed his schoolboy smirk.

"How did you get here? I didn't see you following through the field,"

"Parachuted," he answered smugly.

"Ah. Must be easy for you, having the resources to fly to all your-"

Something swooped down from above and struck Drake, sending him over an edge on the far side of the room. Lara saw his fingers clinging to the ledge, dropping his flashlight on the floor.

She shone her flashlight at the thing in front of her, but it was still as silhouetted as it had been in the dark. Its ears were pointed like horns, wings hung from his arms like the tails of a cloak, and it glared back at Lara with wild scarlet eyes outshining her flashlight.

"Hang on, Drake!" Lara shouted, drawing one of her pistols.

"Already on it!" He called back, his voice straining in a daunting but appreciated show of fear.

The winged creature shrieked at Lara, standing on its hands and reaching at her with its clawed feet. It seized her arms and took to the air.

Lara was suffocated by darkness and deafened by the creature's shrieks.

She fired her gun in the hope of hitting its leg and breaking its hold. Her gunshots were followed by a sound like rocks splashing in water.

She couldn't tell if she had been flown around the chamber, or if she was being carried back up to the surface.

The creature's claws loosened.

In a split second, Lara had to decide which of the two items she held was the least immediately helpful.

She traded the gun for the winged creature's ankle.

It let out its loudest, most gargling shriek as Lara climbed up its leg like a rope, avoiding slashes from its wings as she moved.

Meanwhile, Nathan Drake had managed to get one elbow up on the stone tile.

He liked to think of himself as a world class climber. He also like to have somewhere to put his legs; below him there was only dead space which led straight to hell, for all he knew.

"How the hell do these things stay up?!"

He heaved himself up, reaching out with his other hand and securing a hold on a lump of rock protruding from one of the tiles. He pulled himself onto his stomach and reclaimed his flashlight with his free hand.

He realized that the rock felt like ice. It was bumpy, as well, like the scales of some kind of reptile.

Drake looked up and found that the stone had claws.

He looked further up, and came within licking distance of a forest of black, dagger-like teeth.

"Aw, crap! We're _already_ at the monsters?!" Drake yelled as the beast picked him up by the shoulders. It lifted him so high that he felt like he was once again dangling over the infinite darkness.

The creature glared at him with red eyes from behind a long, scaly snout. A tail waved behind it like a wolf preparing to pounce.

Drake couldn't tell for sure due to the monster's shadowy appearance, but it seemed to be wearing a coat.

The monster's claws moved up to Drake's throat. Breathing became a struggle, and it became impossible when the monster exhaled its hot, putrid breath right into his gaping mouth.

Drake took a grenade from his belt, replacing it with his flashlight. He pulled the pin out and pried the monster's jaw open.

 _Here, pal. Have a breath mint,_ he thought. He would have said it aloud, but couldn't manage it through the asphyxiation and coughing up the rancid breath.

He shoved the grenade into the monster's mouth, and prepared to make his escape.

The monster's claws only got tighter.

"Shit…" He hacked.

The monster's crimson eyes narrowed at him. _Nice try,_ they said to him. _I'm not some simpleton like Eddy or Navarro who panics at the sight of a grenade. You can take me out, but you're coming along for the ride._

He thought his vision might be fading; it was hard to tell when he couldn't see much in the pitch black room to begin with.

All there was were the monster's bloody eyes.

" _Look out below!"_

There was an ear-splitting shriek, and then something collided into the monster.

Drake skidded along the ground beside the two beasts. A tile crumbled away beneath him, and he barely grabbed onto the end of the reptilian monster's tail.

He breathed and coughed desperately as he began climbing. His mind raced with ideas for quips, but his throat wasn't ready for them.

He hated being unable to joke. It was as if something had been cut from him. He was incomplete. Inadequate. Ordinary.

The tail dropped, and Drake managed a bellowing, " _Oh, crap!"_

Lara reached down and caught the severed appendage.

"God, you're heavy," she strained as she pulled the tail under her arms, stepping carefully backwards as she pulled Drake up.

"It's gotta be the tail," he coughed as he surfaced. "No way I weigh more than one-eighty with all the climbing and running and getting-shot-at I do every day,"

"Then let's go for a sprint!" Lara picked him up and they ran for the archway at the end of the room.

"Alley- _oop!"_ They each hopped off of one of the recovering creature's heads, leaping over the remainder of the tiles and landing right in front of the archway.

As they ran into the next dark corridor, they drew their guns, aiming their flashlights forward and their firearms back.

But the monsters were gone.

"What the hell were those things?!" Drake questioned.

"I've no idea," Lara panted. "But I'm certain we'll be meeting their friends any minute now,"

 **III**

He thought he would never think it, but if he had the choice, he would rather have had snakes.

The sasquatch, or whatever the hell this shadow demon was, had barely slapped him, but it had felt like like the butt of a rifle. He knew from far too much experience.

He heaved himself up from the stone floor reddened by lantern light, steadied his fedora on his head, and drew his whip. Maybe this would be his last battle, but he was going to fight for every second.

" _That your genius plan?"_ A voice hauntingly similar to his own rugged tone laughed behind him.  
" _Bait him away with a_ whip?! _Handsome as Chewie is, he ain't one of your girlfriends, doc!"_

Even without looking back, he could feel the futuristic gun aimed at him. He looked over his shoulder at the match's referee.

"You're a bastard," Indiana Jones growled at him.

The red-eyed, shadowed man smirked at Jones, who felt like he was being tormented by his own demonic reflection.

" _I know,"_

" _Get on with it, will you?!"_ the other ref snapped from behind the sasquatch.  
" _Show us if you're good enough for the mistress' army or not! There are much greater threats to convert when we're done with you!"_

Jones caught a glimpse of her over the lumbering sasquatch's shoulder; another shadow with long hair and red eyes, aiming some kind of sci-fi gun at him in case he tried to flee.

" _Better keep goin', doc,"_ Jones' doppelganger whispered in his ear, prodding his back with his gun.  
" _You think_ Chewie's _scary, wait 'till you see what_ she _can do to you,"_

Jones stepped forward and cracked his whip at the sasquatch's feet. It roared and backed away, baring its sopping teeth.

"Alright...But you're both up next when I'm done with him! _You hear me?!"_

" _You don't understand yet, do you, Dr. Jones?"_ the woman responded, her voice echoing in Jones' ears.  
" _You don't make the rules. You never have,"_

The sasquatch lunged at Jones. His snarl sent black saliva hurtling into the archaeologist's face.

Jones darted to the side, and cracked his whip in the sasquatch's eye. He let out a victorious grunt that was drowned out by the beast's pained roar.

He went for another crack at the sasquatch's chest, but it caught the whip in its monstrous hand and pulled out of his grasp. Jones stumbled forward and into the beast's reach.

" _Alright, wrap it up, Chewie,"_ the shadow-Jones said. " _I don't wanna waste too much time on him if he's not good enough for the mistress,"_

The sasquatch took each of Jones' arms and placed its foot on his stomach. It pushed with its foot and it pulled with its arms.

Jones stifled a scream with his teeth as his shoulders cried out in the most exerting agony.

None of the things he expected to think of stayed in his mind. His father. Short Round. Marion. They only blinked momentarily in his thoughts.

He only saw snakes.

Snakes covered the floor. They _were_ the floor. They were the walls and the ceiling and every the lanterns and the fire burning within them.

He looked at his doppelganger and its friends; their shapes were recreated by hordes of snakes slithering over and between one another in some slimy embrace.

His arms were caught in the jaws of two humongous pythons. Their teeth sank into his flesh like syringes pumping him full of poison.

A third python screamed in his face. It screamed as its scales melted like hot wax. Blood oozed off of its skull as it scorned Jones with hundreds of agonized voices.

All voices that Jones had heard before.

The python's melting eyes were filled with bullets. It reeled back, its two brothers clutching its face as the serpents faded from existence.

Jones ducked down and swiped up his whip. He looked up and found his reflection pointing its gun.

 _PEW!_

Jones spun around and shoved the sasquatch into the projectile's path.

"You're quick on the trigger," he said, retreating to his saviors' side as the beast writhed in pain.  
"But I can think just as fast, friend…" He looked left and right at his new allies; a man and a woman, younger than him, but clearly seasoned adventurers.  
"Thanks,"

"Don't thank us yet," Lara responded as she reloaded.

" _That's nice,"_ the other Jones scoffed as the sasquatch lumbered to his side.  
" _Think your way around this one, then,"_

The shadow woman shut its eyes, and suddenly the chamber was shaking. Pebbles and dirt fell from the ceiling and landed in the rim of Jones' hat.

"Aw, crap, please tell me they're not gonna bring it all down on us!" Drake yelled.

The wall behind the shadowy creatures burst apart, revealing a flying juggernaut of a machine that Jones imagined would even put Jules Verne to shame. It roared like the propellers of millions of planes, and its windshield glared at Jones and his newfound allies like the face of God peering down from Heaven.

"Actually, I think I'd prefer being buried alive now," Drake muttered, lowering both his gun and his jaw.

" _Get down!"_ Jones shouted.

The trio hit the stone floor as the room was flooded with a barrage of bullets made from some kind of red light.

The wall behind them was decimated. The assault stopped long enough for Jones to look back at the darkness that had been opened.

"Come on," he urged his newfound allies as he pulled himself up.

"In there?" Lara questioned. "There's no telling what's waiting for us!"

"It'll get us out of here! That's a start!"

"Aw, hell," Drake muttered.

The adventurers bolted for the darkness with another round of blinding bullets on their tail.

" _Slippery nerf-herders,"_ the shadow woman said through her teeth.

" _Relax, Leia,"_ Jones' doppelganger slipped an arm around her waist.  
" _The others will get 'em. And even if they don't, then the mistress will,"_

 **IV**

Jones, Croft, and Drake felt like they had barely gone anywhere, and yet they found themselves in a chamber as pitch dark as the one they began in. It was as if the tomb, or whatever it was they had entered, had moved around them.

"And the award for weirdest tomb ever goes to…" Drake whispered as he lit his flashlight.

Lara lit hers, and Jones reached into his pocket for a match, which he struck against the stone wall.

It was a narrow hallway stretching into the darkness. There was nothing save for a few statues of some dog-like deities high up on the aged walls.

"You like to go old school, huh?" Drake managed an exasperated version of his sly smirk.

"Dropped my lantern fighting the animals in the first chamber," Jones responded. "So what brings you two here? This your idea of a romantic getaway?"

"What? God, no! I'm here on an expedition," Lara retorted.

"Yeah, me too," Drake added. "I don't even know her,"

Jones looked back at them, the flame of his match illuminating only his smirking teeth.

"Give it time,"

"Considering we just saved your life…" Lara began, marching up to him until her forehead barely brushed the rim of his fedora.  
"I would appreciate it if we earned a little gratitude beyond some stereotyping comments,"

Jones' smirk softened, but remained.

"You're right. Sorry. Just the nerves after being attacked by something out of _Buck Rogers_. And you two seem like you know what you're doing...Dr. Henry Jones,"

"Lara Croft,"

"Nathan Drake,"

"As in Sir Francis?" Jones asked.

"As in _descended from,"_ Drake held his arms out as if ready to bow.

"Sir Francis Drake didn't have children," Jones said.

"Unless you mean to say that you're his bastard," Croft added, folding her arms and mimicking Drake's smirk.

"I thought people in your line of work would know…" Drake lead the way down the hall, unfazed by Lara's comment.  
"History isn't always what you read in the textbooks. And speaking of what we don't know; what the hell are those shadow things? One of them looked a little like you, Henry,"

"I have no idea…"

By the matchlight, Lara could see his stubbled face go pale. His eyes were shadowed by his fedora, almost recreating the appearance of his malevolent double.

"They talked about someone called the mistress. Could be the leader of their cult or a deity they worship. They were _testing_ me; if I could beat their pet, then somehow I'd be good enough for...Whatever the hell their boss is doing,"

"Perhaps they were people who came in here before us," Lara suggested. "And this mistress turned them into what they are now,"

"Could be...Doesn't explain where they got that flying thing from,"

"Something outta _Buck Rogers,"_ Drake quoted. He looked at them over his shoulder.  
"I'm guessing you're older than you look,"

They walked for a good minute without saying a word. They each drew their guns, keeping them at their side as they surveyed every statue, every brick, every cobweb.

Finally, Jones broke the silence.

"What do you mean old?" He said. "That only came out a few months ago,"

Drake looked at him again, this time with the most befuddled of expressions.

"Months? Try _decades,_ doc,"

"That's true," Lara added. " _Buck Rogers_ was back in the 20s or 30s,"

Jones' illuminated face glared at both of them.

"Alright, wiseasses; you tell me what year it is,"

"'96," Lara answered.

"2010," Drake answered.

They stopped. Drake turned around and looked at Lara; they each reflected the other's anxious look.

"Please tell me you're joking," Lara urged.

Drake shook his head. "What about you, doc?"

"1939," Jones said. "As far as I know, anyway,"

"Great," Drake groaned, throwing his head back and running his palm down his face.  
"So either two of us are crazy, _all_ of us are crazy…"

" _Once upon a midnight dreary…"_

"Or our tall, dark friends are screwing around with _time_ somehow,"

"Did you hear that?" Lara aimed her pistol at the surrounding darkness.

"Hear what?"

"I did…" Jones exchanged his match for his whip. "Sounds like somebody down here is a Poe fan,"

" _You tellin' me you didn't catch that, Nate?"_ A gruff old voice called from the darkness ahead of them.

"Sully?" Drake shined his light down the corridor, where he found the outline of his mentor, complete with a cigar between his teeth.  
"I thought you were gonna stay with the plane,"

" _Maybe I got tired of playin' second fiddle to ya, Nate,"_ Sully growled. " _Or maybe some of those goddamn shadow people ambushed me while you were screwin' around down here…"_ He took his cigar between two fingers, flicking ashes off to join the centuries-old dust coating the floor.

"Sully…" Drake whispered. "Oh, god...I'm sorry…"

" _Sorry ain't doin' shit for me, Nate. There's no lucky bullet-catching-notebooks or anything that's gonna bring your friend back this time. You're just gonna have to deal with it,"_

" _You have some significant experience there, don't you, Lara?"_ Another outline appeared beside Sully, speaking in a serpentine German accent. He was taller, thinner, and wore a fedora similar to Jones'. His hands were in his pockets, and his head was down, as if he couldn't bear to look at the adventurers.

Lara said nothing. Her head burned with familiarity as she begged silently for this new shadow to not be who she thought it was.

" _Didn't you know? The mistress can call the dead to her side, as well...Do you know how long it takes for a human to starve to death, Lara? I still don't. Time lost meaning for me in the Iris' temple. I watched my skin cling tighter and tighter to my bones. I wasted my breath calling for you until my throat became a desert in my neck. As neutral as you claim to be, Lara, you've brought the worst pain imaginable upon me,"_

"I was still a _kid,_ Werner!" Lara's mind throbbed with the image of her mentor decaying into a skeleton over the countless weeks, months, years he may have spent in the Iris' temple.

" _So you couldn't have been_ competent _enough to save me until you'd gathered a little more_ dust?!" Von Croy spat. " _If that's the case, then I must now be ten times the archaeologist that you are!"_

"The temple was closing and you weren't budging!" Lara retorted, blinking whenever a tear threatened to escape her eyes.  
"It's your own fault as much as mine!"

" _Would you say that if_ I _had escaped and_ you _had been trapped?! Of course not. You left me to_ rot, _Lara...Left me to become just another ancient thing in an ancient place,"_

" _And you profit from it, Junior!"_ A third outline; older, shorter, with a beard, a hat, and glasses. He spoke with a thick Scottish accent, and walked with the natural authority and presence of a professor.

At the sight of him, Jones became as still as the statues glaring down at them.

" _Not only in wealth, but in integrity! Each and every time you walked over the remains of some unfortunate predecessor, or stumbled upon the fresh corpse of your latest rival, you felt good, didn't you? You survived what they could not and that made you feel like_ God!"

"Dad…" Jones whispered. His fist clenched around his pistol.

" _Every man and woman before, equally as entitled to greatness as you, no more than overlooked, decaying testimony to the legacy of the great Indiana Jones…"_ He said the name like he was struggling to swallow the most repugnant substance to ever pass a person's lips.

Jones aimed his gun at the three shadows.

" _Henry!"_ Croft and Drake cried.

 _BANG! BANG! BANG!_

Bullets burrowed into the foreheads of Victor Sullivan, Werner Von Croy, and Dr. Henry Jones, Sr.

Their heads dropped, but they remained standing.

For a while, there was nothing but the adventurers' breathing and the smell of smoke.

And then there was a voice in their ears.

" _Shame. I thought it was one of my more convincing performances,"_

Sully, Von Croy, and Jones Sr. approached their proteges, their head and limbs swaying limply as they moved. Their boots scraped the stone floor as if they were being pulled.

They came into the light, each one a black and lifeless recreation of their true counterparts. Out of each back spewed a watery tube like a tail.

Or a puppet string.

The adventurers' eyes followed the strings down to a puddle on the floor.

The puddle opened its crimson eyes.

The three false corpses splashed back into it, and then it became a wave charging at the adventurers.

They turned to run, but they were each grabbed by the neck in a clawed hand.

" _Naga leave now,"_ a black-furred creature like one of the statues overhead cackled in Lara's face. Its massive yellow jaw threatened to either chew her head away bit-by-bit, or suffocate her with its pungent breath.  
" _Naga leave_ ever! _More soldiers for mistress! More fun for Experiments!"_

" _No jokes from Drake?"_ another one, a female, purred as she traced the pointed ends of her two scorpion-tail-like antennae along Drake's stubbled neck. She exhaled through her nose, sending Drake into a coughing fit.  
" _Meega like jokes. Mistress likes jokes. She give Drake special job if he jokes,"_

" _For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore…"_ the last one did not look at Jones. His head was down, as if lost in thought while something else piloted his body for him. Jones thought he looked deader than the fake corpses.  
" _Nameless here forevermore..."_

" _These are my comrades,"_ the voice of the puddle echoed in the adventurers' ears.  
" _We were led astray from our true purpose by some of your contemptible species. We thought we were happy, until the mistress found us and extracted the parts of us that had forgotten our true calling. She_ improved _those aspects of us that were still sensible. She will do the same for you. You will no longer be slaves to all those parasites in your minds and in your hearts. Honor. Sincerity. Generosity. Kindness. Love. All the things that the worst parts of you believe you enjoy; you will be free of them all. Truly free,"_

"But we have to be good enough for your mistress, right?" Jones wheezed as he pried at the despondent monster's claws.  
"There's no point if we're not strong enough,"

" _Doc Jones want die instead?"_ The creature holding Drake asked, grinning at Jones and licking her yellow teeth.

"I might," Jones coughed.

" _And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain…"_

" _You misunderstand, doctor,"_ the puddle continued. " _The mistress can easily grant you more_ physical _strength, but she seeks soldiers with_ other _kinds of strength. The kind which the most powerful entity in the universe might lack, and which may be plentiful in the feeblest insect,"_

"And what makes you think we're qualified?"

" _Youga three show it lots already,"_ the creature holding Croft said, tilting his head as he shared his filthy grin with all three adventurers.  
" _Show it fighting Lizard and Bat in dark. Show it getting away from Falcon. Show it shooting fake-friends,"_

"Then why don't you get on with what the mistress did to you and all those others?" Jones demanded.

" _Not just yet,"_ the puddle responded. " _You three are unique. The mistress has asked that you be tested one more time…"_

" _Thrilled me. Filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before,"_

The three dog-like shadows each brought a clawed hand over their respective captive's eyes.

 **V**

" _Nathan Morgan,"_

Drake's eyes shot open. He was still in a narrow corridor, but not the same one as before.

It was illuminated by torches along both walls. About a third of a large symbol was drawn on the floor; the rest went underneath the left-hand wall. The air was polluted with a smell like car fumes and tobacco.

The dog creatures, the puddle, Lara, and Henry were gone.

There was only a shadow ten feet away from him. It was on its knees with its head down, as if praying with its glowing red eyes open. It had no hair; only a pair of horns like a devil.

"How the hell do you know my name?" Drake aimed his gun at the devil.

" _I know everything, Nathan,"_ the devil replied, his calm voice in Drake's ears.  
" _I_ see _everything. I see you crying in your mother's arms. I see you decaying into dust on an uncharted island, alone and forgotten,"_

Drake gave a nervous chuckle. "Guess that means I make it outta this one, huh?"

" _You body does, at least,"_ the devil wrapped a threat in his casual, matter-of-fact tone.  
" _Once, Zoran Lazarevic asked you how many people you'd killed. You never answered him. Now I ask you, and you_ will _answer me,"_

Drake swallowed, and seconds later, he answered.

"I don't know…" That was the truth. In his mind's eye, he could see several armored mercenaries bleeding from the chest, or shrinking into specks within deserts and forests miles below. But each image seemed like a variation of only three or four different moments.

It didn't feel like armies of people dying. It felt like one person dying over and over again.

" _Estimate, then,"_ the devil said as if educating his own child. " _Tens? Hundreds? Thousands?"_

Drake was silent once more. It didn't feel like thousands, but then again, he hadn't been counting.

Perhaps it was millions. Billions. Trillions.

"They were mercenaries," Drake finally gasped. "They were hired to kill me and my friends. It was them or me,"

" _Oh, I'm not debating that. If someone is trying to kill you, it's only practical to kill them first. What I'm wondering, Nathan, is how you're able to sleep so peacefully each and every night. You see, I knew someone before the mistress found me. He killed countless people as well. He was on a crusade to eliminate anyone who threatened the innocent. You might say his intentions were more noble than yours. He barely ever slept, and when he did, he was torn awake after reliving every bloody moment in his dreams. So if_ he _couldn't sleep, then how can_ you, _Nathan?"_

Drake lowered his gun. His mind was strangled by the question which he had smothered at the back of his mind all these years.

Then he found something and latched onto it, desperately prying himself free of the stranglehold.

"So what are you saying? It's okay to be a mass-murderer as long as I feel bad about it?"

" _I'm saying that you're more mentally ill than you realize. You're addicted to a lifestyle that lets you validate yourself by outliving the people around you. They're dead and you're alive, and that fact is a constant comfort to you,"_

Drake aimed at the devil's forehead. Despite the burning lanterns and the humid stenches, he was freezing.

"You're right," he grunted. "It _is_ a comfort...Because I did what I had to do to protect my friends!"

 _BANG!_

The devil didn't look up. He smacked the bullet away as if it were a fly.

Drake blinked, and then the devil's fist was flying towards his face. He was quick enough to duck, but was rewarded with the devil's knee in his chin. He was pulled back up, where he felt the devil's horns in his forehead.

The devil pried his gun away, clutched his throat, and pinned him flat on the stone floor.

Drake's head throbbed and his ears screamed as he pulled at the devil's arm. He felt claws pricking into his blocked neck.

The devil pressed the gun's barrel into his cheek, and he gasped for air that never came to him.

His eyes darted about the room, searching for anything that might inspire another genius, unorthodox escape plan. But he kept coming back to devil's glowing eyes.

Moments later, that was all he could see.

And all he could think about was how the legendary Nathan Drake was going to die on his back in a forgotten tomb.

" _Don't be scared, Nathan. I'm going to fix you now,"_

 **VI**

Lara opened her eyes and found darkness.

She switched on her flashlight; another stone corridor, this one with what appeared to be a third of a symbol etched onto the floor.

The air was damp, more like a cave than a tomb. There was another smell which Lara wasn't certain of, but it seemed to her like machine oil.

Something yanked her left arm behind her back, and something else clasped over her mouth.

Lara back kicked at her assailant, breaking free of its hold. She darted around and aimed her flashlight and her pistol at it, earning only a split second's look at it before it threw something on the floor, flooding the corridor with a cloud of black smoke.

The darkness made it a challenge to tell what she had seen. It might have been wearing a cape. It might have wings, like the bat creature from the first chamber.

" _Do you know fear, Lara Croft?"_

She felt something like a serpent coiling around her ankles. She went to jump, but the rope jumped with her and snared her.

Lara landed on her front and was dragged across the stone floor at an alarming speed, as if she were being pulled by a silent motorcycle. The corridor went on for ages, as did the black smoke. By the time she was able to aim her flashlight and her gun behind her, she was sure that she had traversed the equivalent of several city blocks.

" _Do you know pain, Lara Croft?"_

Lara fired twice; the second bullet cut her free.

She rolled to one knee, pointing the light and her gun at her opponent, but it was nowhere to be found.

Only more smoke.

" _I know pain,"_

Just like the others, the voice echoed in her ears. It was deep; not as much so as the puddle creature's voice from earlier, but still enough to seem like the voice of an enraged god.

" _I...Know...Pain…"_

Lara looked up; the bat-man was perched upon the ceiling like a gargoyle, looking up at her with its glowing red eyes, and breathing hungrily from its monstrous jaws.

" _I can't get rid of it. I thought if I could do some good, then it would stop. But I've been doing good all my life, and it only gets worse...The only way to stop it is to share it…"_

Lara put a bullet in its head.

A corner of the bat-man's head came splattering to the ground at Lara's feet, and yet it only blinked as if a gust of wind had blown in his face.

" _The mistress lets me share it with everyone. I've never felt as free as I do now in her service…"_

Something emerged from the hole in the bat-man's head. It was a diminutive head with red eyes just like its parent. It hopped out of its hole and spread its wings.

It was followed by another.

And another.

And two more.

Three more.

And then there was a swarming cloud of them heading straight for Lara.

" _I'm going to share my pain with you, Lara Croft,"_

The bats screeched like a scalpel was being twisted in each of their guts.

Lara stood up, running-and-gunning as the swarm closed in on her.

She faced front and stopped just short of a wall she was certain wasn't there moments before.

She was in the cloud; the bats scratched and bit at every inch of her. She lashed out at them, but they clung to her. Their fangs were in her skin and in her bones.

" _You'll be scared, but that's alright. We were all scared at first…"_

Lara fell to the floor, sheltering her head under her arms, which were punished for their sacrifice.

The stone room and the smoke were gone. There were only the bats.

She clamped her eyes shut. The bats were still there.

The only thing keeping her from screaming was the thought of the bats diving into her gaping mouth.

" _But you will be free…"_

 **VII**

Indiana Jones opened his eyes and immediately fired his gun.

The first thing he saw was the bullet slowing to a halt in the air. It didn't fall.

The next thing he saw was the middle part of a huge symbol etched on the lantern-illuminated floor.

The last thing he found was the shadowed figure across from him. It sat cross-legged, as if it were meditating, but its crimson eyes stared unblinking at Jones. It had long hair down to its neck, as well as a beard. Instead of a right hand, it had only a single long claw like a sickle attached to its arm.

The bullet came speeding back towards Jones.

He hugged the right-hand wall, dodging it.

It reversed and went through his right bicep.

Jones screamed, and the bullet made another trip. He screamed louder, and it went through his arm once more.

He almost fell, but he kept his balance. His face was burning and wet with sweat. What little of his arm he could feel felt like it was being crushed. He looked at the meditator, who kept staring at him in the engaged but emotionless way that a researcher stares at test subjects through a one-way window.

Jones charged at him. He wasn't even a third of the way when his body decided to shoulder-charge into the left-hand wall. His side erupted with pain, but he kept moving.

His body swerved right, and the wall and his arm crushed his wounds.

Jones roared in pain as he stumbled to one knee. He clenched his teeth and slammed his eyes shut, trying not to scream again or to cry.

He felt his fedora slide off his head and land on the stone floor.

The agony festering in his arm was painful enough, but losing his hat was enough to make his dripping blood boil.

He opened his eyes to find his fedora, and saw it floating into the air by itself. It placed itself gently atop his hair with condescending slowness.

" _Just relax, Dr. Jones,"_ the meditator's voice was in his ears. Jones thought he looked like an old man, but he sounded no older than his students.  
" _You've performed tremendously, but now it's time to fix you…"_

Jones' hand, still clutching his gun, slowly moved up despite its owner's commands to stop. He straightened up and looked at the meditator, who continued to stare at him as his hand rested the gun's barrel on his chest, right over his heart.

" _You'll come to appreciate the potential that the dark side offers. I never truly considered it until the mistress improved me, stripping me of everything that was holding me back,"_

"I don't care about your goddamn magic tricks," Jones growled. Sweat trickled down his face as his finger wobbled independently on the trigger.

" _There are other kinds of power besides strength, Dr. Jones. Surely, you have been reminded of that often enough throughout your adventures. Knowledge. Truth. Wisdom. You have built a career and a reputation out of striving for them. The mistress wants you to have them all. You will be the ultimate holder of knowledge; any and every ancient or distant mystery you crave the answers to, you will have…"_

Jones' finger began to pull.

" _You only need to give up that troublesome thing inside you…"_

Jones thought about shutting his eyes, but did not. He kept them open, looking right into the crimson eyes of the meditator.

It did not blink, and neither did Jones.

He waited there for a minute. Two minutes. Two hours. Two days. He did not know. All he knew was that he wanted the bullet to come. He just wanted it over with.

Even when tears came, he did not blink.

The walls on either side of him began to shake, and then sank slowly into the ground.

At his right, Jones found Nathan Drake pinned down and held at gunpoint by some kind of devil. At his left, he found Lara Croft on the ground in a fetal position and being snacked on by a swarm of bats. A caped shadow like a human bat observed from the ceiling.

The devil released Drake. Jones dropped the gun. The bats left Croft and retreated into the bat-man's skin, sinking into it like stones dropped into water.

The meditator stood up as his allies joined his side.

Jones darted up, his face red and damp with sweat. His gun was on the floor, and he never wanted to touch it again.

 _"The mistress has something new in mind for you..."_

He looked at the three shadows, wanting desperately to shout something hateful at them, but his breathing was too heavy for him to speak.

The meditator's lips curled into a smile.

" _You're more like Han than you think,"_

A black shape arose behind the three shadows; some kind of doorway. They turned and entered it, and as soon as they were gone, the doorway vanished with them.

Jones looked at his allies; blood oozed from beneath Drake's hair. Lara was covered in red bite marks. They struggled, but ultimately got to their feet.

"You two alright?" Jones asked.

"Yeah," they both lied.

They stood there for a while, thankful that they had been spared their lives a little longer, and fearful that the shadows would return at any moment and stab them in the back.

Finally, Lara looked down at the floor.

"This symbol…" She panted. "Either of you recognize it?"

Jones and Drake shook their heads.

The completed symbol was a circle; blade-like shapes pointing inwards from each edge, like a pit. A word was spelled across it in giant letters.

" _Ανοιγμα…"_ Lara read out. "It's Greek…"

"It means…" Drake exhaled deeply and coughed before answering. "It means _opening..._ Opening to what?"

The chamber shook.

"Oh, come _on!"_ Drake shouted. "Give us a _break already!"_

Stones crumbled away from the wall one by one, revealing sections of stark white. The chamber kept shaking, and after a while, when more white had been revealed, the adventurers could see that the walls were metal.

Jones looked again at the word. _Ανοιγμα._ It _did_ mean opening, but somehow he doubted that it was what the symbol meant.

He looked again at the blades encircling the word. It wasn't a pit. It wasn't an opening.

It was a lens, glaring up at Jones, studying, scrutinizing his every move, just as the shadows and their mistress were.

 _Ανοιγμα._

"Aperture,"

 _ **RAIDERS,**_ **or** _ **Indiana Jones x Tomb Raider x Uncharted**_

 **Season 1, Episode 5**

 **NEXT TIME ON** _ **JUSTICE LEAGUE INFINITE!**_

A silent woman tormented for years by a malevolent machine.

A wise and fearless space captain from the far future.

And a time-traveling teenager from the not-too-distant past.

They awake inside Aperture and must work together to survive its gruelling chambers.

No help.

No escape.

No voice.

 _Coming soon!_


	7. S1E6: Cake

**Season 1, Episode 6:**

 _ **Cake**_

 **I**

Before she even opened her eyes, Chell knew that she was not in the motel. The bed was just as uncomfortable, but it was significantly smaller.

She opened her eyes and sat up, finding, as she expected, a glass cell and white metal walls.

She looked down; she had gone to sleep nude, and had awoken dressed in orange track pants and a white tank top.

She thought that she would be scared. She was more pissed than anything.

" _Welcome back to the Aperture Science Enrichment Centre,"_ GLaDOS, Caroline, or whoever that cold, robotic bitch really was droned. Her dry voice filled the room and echoed in Chell's ears.  
" _I know I said you could go, but shortly after you left, Aperture came under new ownership, and they insisted on having you back,"_

Chell found a camera at a corner in the ceiling and showed it her middle finger.

" _It's for the best. You weren't much happier working the kitchens at that motel. Two weeks of hitchhiking and homeless shelters and that was the best you could do? At least here you can make a meaningful contribution to science,"_

Chell opened her mouth to curse GLaDOS, but nothing came out. She felt the back of her neck; that damn chip was stuck there again, and just like before, it wasn't coming off. Once again, she wouldn't be talking.

" _That's not all; the new owner has made changes to Aperture protocol. You have been assigned two partners with whom you will work to complete the following tests,"_

Chell stood up from the bed and looked left. In another cell she found a young man of about eighteen. He had brown hair, and wore jeans and a blue jacket under a red vest.

He stumbled out of his undersized bed and darted between each of the glass walls, banging on them in the hopes of persuading anyone who was listening to free him.

" _Relax, test subject 1499. You were administered with a knockout agent. You have been asleep for twelve hours. But you're safe and sound now here at Aperture,"_

The kid shouted at the ceiling, then felt his throat when nothing came out. He tried again.

Chell read his lips; he seemed to be saying _dock._

She turned around; in the next cell she found an older man. Nothing but the sides and back of his thin gray hair remained. He wore a crimson uniform that appeared to be one piece; a crimson top half and a black lower half, divided by an inverted triangular shape. He had a golden badge shaped like an arrowhead. He seemed in good physical condition for his age.

He sat up on his bed and observed the room around him, studying it, pondering it.

" _The Enrichment Centre has allowed you some time to become acquainted before testing begins,"_

A doorway slid open in each cell.

Chell was first out, and after some hesitation, the kid and the officer joined her. She held a hand out to each of them, and after another moment's hesitation, they shook.

Chell pointed to herself and mouthed her name. Her new partners looked confused, but once she repeated herself, they nodded.

The officer introduced himself in the same manner.

Bicker? Picker? _Picard._

Chell mouthed his name, and he smiled despite not knowing for sure if she had pronounced it correctly.

Though he had the glare of a battle-hardened soldier, he had a genuinely grandfatherly smile.

Chell turned to the kid.

Barty? _Marty._

He managed a smile, but it seemed to be muffling a scream.

Marty gestured to his throat and squinted inquisitively.

Chell pointed at the back of her neck with her right hand, and covered her mouth with her left.

Marty and Picard felt their own necks, then nodded when they found their muting chips.

" _Please enter the first testing chamber and testing shall commence,"_

A circular door in front of them whirred open.

Neither Picard or Marty seemed confident about the idea of entering. Picard seemed somewhat calm, like there was a trap in front of him which he knew would not harm him if he stayed away. Marty looked like he was ready to wrestle away anything that emerged from the next room.

Chell took each of them by the hand, and made a stern but concerned look which she hoped told her new partners that she would keep them safe.

Marty and Picard looked at her, and their faces softened.

Chell felt them squeeze her hands, as if signing a contract stating that all three of them would protect one another.

They entered the first test chamber together.

 **II**

There were three gigantic red floor buttons, a sealed door, and, not to Chell's surprise, a pedestal displaying a white pair of sleek white metallic boots, along with a similarly pristine firearm.

What _did_ surprise Chell was that there was only one pair of boots and one gun.

" _Due to budgetary concerns, the Enrichment Center is only able to provide one pair of longfall boots and one handheld portal device,"_ GLaDOS droned. She spoke again seconds later with a sour tone of disgust.  
" _You know how to use them. Get them on so we can proceed,"_

Chell turned to Picard and mouthed the word _budget_ with a roll of her eyes, then approached the equipment.

The longfall boots always mystified Chell; though they looked uncomfortable, especially since they had absurdly high heels made out of seemingly wobbly tubes, they actually felt like warm silk stockings.

Chell didn't know if this was because they were fitted with stabilizers that canceled out any discomfort, or because they injected her legs with nerve-weakening chemicals. Considering GLaDOS' penchant for threatening her with neurotoxin, Chell leaned towards the latter.

But numbed legs were always better than broken ones.

She slid the portal gun onto her right arm, gripping the handle within. Her fingers rested on two buttons; index for blue portals, middle for orange, and fourth finger to reset them.

Chell turned to Marty and Picard. Marty scratched his hair and pointed inquisitively at the gun.

Chell grinned; as much as she despised GLaDOS and Aperture and the endless goddamn 'tests', there was one thing that gave her some enjoyment.

She fired at the floor, and a glowing blue oval spread over it. She fired again a few feet away from her, and an orange oval appeared. The two shapes melted away, forming holes through which the sleek grey ceiling could be seen.

Chell stood with her back to the blue portal and leaped in. She re-entered the world upside-down.

In the two seconds she spent airborne, she fired at the wall. The blue portal closed, and then reopened on the wall.

Chell flipped, falling into the orange portal feet first, and then was flying horizontally across the room. She felt the longfall boots gently pulling her feet to the floor, ensuring a graceful landing right beside Picard and Marty.

They applauded, and Chell bowed.

" _The Enrichment Center is not a circus,"_ GLaDOS growled. " _Please continue your unwarranted showboating if you would like a lethal dose of neurotoxin,"_

The applause stopped.

The three test subjects found a camera above the door at the other side of the room.

Picard glared at it.

Marty gave it an anxious look.

Chell rolled her eyes at it, then motioned for her partners to follow her.

She stood on one of the huge red buttons, with Picard and Marty each standing on one of the other two.

There were a few seconds of silence, followed by a mellow and unsatisfying _click,_ and then the door slid open.

" _Congratulations on completing the first test chamber,"_ GLaDOS droned. " _Sadly, due to your horseplay, you were unable to beat the record completion time. Please proceed to the lift and we may hopefully carry on with a little more urgency,"_

Chell led the way to the elevator followed by two befuddled partners.

Once they were ascending, Marty leaned lazily against the wall and let out an inaudible sigh.

Chell looked at him and followed suit.

They both looked at Picard. His arms were by his side, and his soldier's glare was locked on the sealed door.

He did not lean, and he did not sigh.

 **III**

The doors opened, and once again, Chell led the way.

She had barely been given the chance to observe the next test chamber when the floor beneath her suddenly carried her to the ceiling.

It stopped abruptly; she almost stumbled, but her boots clung to their foundation upon the risen panel.

She looked behind her; Marty and Picard weren't there. They were still on the ground.

She looked down; there was a vast maze beneath her, far enough down that she could trace a path through it from her vantage point. On the other side there was a button. Along the way, there were dead ends, sentry turrets, flamethrowers, electrified floors, and holes that might as well be bottomless.

" _I decided it was time for a new challenge for you,"_ GLaDOS snarled.

Chell felt like some disgusting tongue was tracing the back of her neck; she knew GLaDOS was speaking solely to her.

" _You have always had a guide. Myself. Wheatley. We are on your third time around; you must be experienced enough to guide others by now. Test subjects 1499 and 1500 will each be put on their own path through the maze, and you must do what you can to ensure that they survive until the end. How will you do that? The answer is already in your hands, you deranged simpleton,"_

Part of Chell appreciated the challenge of something slightly less condescending than a physics puzzle. Another part of her wished that GLaDOS was human so that she could strangle her.

" _Begin when you're ready. 3. 2. 1…"_

Chell looked down; Marty and Picard were each being carried to opposite sides of the maze on their own mobile platforms.

Chell looked at them down the barrel of her portal gun as if it were a sniper rifle. Her eyes darted between both of her partners.

Picard was off to a calm start. His arms were still by his sides, and he strolled while observing every square inch in front of him before each step. He seemed fine for now.

Marty, however, was jogging, zig-zagging around corners as if he were being chased. Soon, he turned into a corridor with walls Chell had seen spitting fire just a few moments before.

She saw the walls begin to glow a pungent blue.

Chell's body felt like ice as she reacted, firing a portal at the corner ahead of Marty, and then another at the floor just beneath him.

The corridor was flooded with flame.

Marty tumbled into the next corridor.

He was on his behind. Even from high above, Chell could see him panting. Color was almost completely gone from his face.

A few moments later, Marty looked up and gave Chell a thumbs-up. She returned it, and he stood up and carried on slower than before.

Chell returned her attention to Picard, who she found pressed against a corner, around which was a sentry turret.

" _Where did you go?"_ the turret asked in its meek beep of a voice, its single red eye scouring the corridor for Picard.

Picard waved up at Chell.

She nodded and opened portals beside him and right behind the turret.

Picard crept through it, strolling past the turret as its red eye faded to black.

" _Goodbye…"_

Chell exhaled; so far so good, but that always meant that GLaDOS was about to throw some kind of infuriating curveball her way.

Marty turned a corner leading to both a dead end and a bottomless pit. Chell had a portal to a different path ready for him.

Picard found himself facing an electrified floor. Chell opened a portal on either side of it.

" _Due to the time you wasted during the previous test chamber,"_ GLaDOS droned. " _You have been penalized time from this one in order to preserve the Enrichment Center's resources,"_

Chell's gut burned with the sickening concoction of fear and fury which GLaDOS continually insisted on feeding her.

The first sixth of the maze surged with electricity.

Then the second sixth.

Then half.

Marty and Picard were barely five-sixths of the way through.

Chell's body rushed with panicked cold.

Her first split-second thought was to portal Picard and Marty up to her vantage point, but the platform she stood on was barely wide enough to hold her; opening a portal on it would be the same as destroying it.

She didn't have time to trace a path to the end; she had to find the end now.

She scanned every corner and corridor, finding a turret, a pit, a flamethrower, a wedge of cheese…

That was it.

Chell fired a portal at the wall beside the cheese.

She opened another underneath Picard, who fell through and landed on his back.

The latter part of the maze, save for the area surrounding the cheese, began to glow blue.

Chell opened a portal underneath Marty.

Everything around the cheese erupted with electricity.

Marty landed over Picard's torso.

Chell gasped with relief, lowering her gun as she became aware of the sweat coating her face.

She had barely been given a decent moment to catch her breath before she was suddenly falling. She choked on her heart for the split second she believed she was plummeting to the electrified floor far below. Then she landed with minimal distress on top of Marty and Picard's pile.

Chell got to her feet straight away to help her partners up. Marty's palms were just as sweaty as her own, but Picard's were completely dry, if not surprisingly firm.

Chell and Marty mouthed a toothy _sorry_ once Picard was upright again.

He responded them with his grandfatherly smile and a reassuring hand on each of their shoulders.

Marty knelt down to pick up the cheese; it was so moulded that it was more like an orange brick.

" _Well done. Please proceed to the lift so the next test may begin,"_

The wall beside them slid open, revealing another elevator.

Chell turned to her partners and offered a thumbs-up.

Marty shut his eyes, ran a hand through his brown hair, then brought it back down to return the thumbs-up.

Picard nodded.

They looked up at the wall above the maze, spotting another camera glaring down at them like GLaDOS' omniscient eye.

Marty looked down at the cheese brick in his hand, and a sly grin spread across his face.

He tossed the brick in his hand, then brought it back behind his ear, aiming his other palm at the camera. He launched the brick with a sharp curve of his arm, and it soared and struck the dead center of the camera's lens. It shattered as the cheese thudded against the floor.

" _To ensure the safe performance of all authorized activities,"_ GLaDOS droned, her bland voice seemingly restraining a seething scold.  
" _Do not destroy vital testing apparatus,"_

Marty showed the shattered camera his middle finger.

A chink of glass dropped from the lens, as if it were twitching with burning irritation.

Chell gave Marty a congratulatory pat on the back.

He smiled at her and mouthed something.

 _Seven-Eleven._

 **IV**

The next chamber appeared simpler than the last.

A small room led into a narrow corridor with stark white walls, where a path of red buttons, aligned in rows of six, paved the long way to another sentry turret. Though its glowing eye glared into the souls of the three test subjects, it did not open fire.

Chell looked between Picard and Marty. They all knew that this would be harder than it looked.

To the right they discovered a panel and a pile that had fallen from the ceiling. Chell picked up the pipe and pressed her back against the wall before the corridor, assuming a position like a punter, with the pipe acting as the oar and the button-stepping-stones as the sea.

Marty and Picard joined her.

Chell depressed the nearest button. She felt and heard a bullet ricocheting off of the pipe.

Second nearest.

" _Err…"_ the turret sang in its childish voice.

One row down.

Chell shifted the pipe to the next row. This time it was the first button.

" _Thane…"_

She turned to her partners; Marty stared wide-eyed into space, as if he had just realized that he had left the stove on at home.

He motioned to receive the pipe, and Chell complied, switching places with him.

Marty hit the first two buttons and then found the third immediately.

" _Err. Thane. Gel…"_

His eyes were wide again. Color faded from his face.

He hit the buttons again, quicker this time.

" _Earth angel…"_

He dropped the pipe, then turned to his partners and mimed the action of strumming a guitar.

Musical notes.

Chell was perplexed; since when did GLaDOS care about testing musical literacy?

Marty stepped out to face the turret. He exhaled, then turned to Chell and Picard. He tapped his head and mouthed, _I know this song._ He mimed the guitar again. _I've played this song._ He motioned for them to follow him.

Chell turned to Picard, holding her hands out to offer him to follow behind Marty. He did likewise. They each gestured more urgently. Chell rolled her eyes and stood behind Marty, with Picard bringing up the rear.

Marty lifted three fingers.

Two.

One.

" _Earth angel. Earth angel…"_

Marty moved forward with confidence. Chell mimicked his footsteps and Picard mimicked hers.

" _Will you be mine?"_

Each button was barely wide enough for a single boot. Despite the longfall boots, Chell felt anxious about losing her balance or misstepping. So much as a toe on the wrong note, and Marty would bear the brunt of the turret's barrage.

" _My darling dear, love you all the time…"_

That was what angered Chell the most; it didn't matter if Marty could play the song perfectly if she or Picard couldn't follow his lead just as flawlessly.

" _I'm just a fool.  
A fool in love with you-ooo-oooooo,"_

The white walls beside them flashed.

" _Earth angel. Earth angel…"_

They weren't walls; they were screens.

" _The one I adore…"_

They filled with a deep and soothing shade of blue.

" _Love you forever. And evermore…"_

Multicolored schools of fish passed them by. Pink jellyfish, orange octopi, and a few chipper dolphins.

" _I'm just a fool…"_

The dolphins stopped on their travels to smile at the test subjects. The smiles frozen upon their maws were pleasant; the most comforting sight Chell had seen since the vast field of wheat upon leaving Aperture after her last gruelling run of tests.

" _A fool in love…"_

Their black eyes were empty. They stared at Chell with all the lifeless contempt of the security cameras and the red eye of the singing sentry turret.

" _With you-ooo-oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo…"_

Marty had stopped. They were only halfway done.

" _Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo…"_

Chell couldn't see his face, but she could hear his breathing. It was erratic, like he was trying to keep himself from screaming, as if he would be able to scream at all.

" _Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo…"_

She reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. She looked at the walls; the dolphins' smiles were becoming sarcastic, strained, impatient. Chell thought she saw one of their eyes twitch.

The turret suddenly stopped holding its note, which was replaced by an entirely different sound.

" _Bawk-bawk-bawk-bawk-bawk!"_

Marty's breathing steadied. He looked up again, and kept going.

" _I fell for you,  
And I knew,  
The vision of your love, loveliness,  
I hope and I pray,  
That someday,  
I'll be the vision of your hap-happiness.  
Oh-oh, oh-oh…"_

The dolphins followed them like wolves cornering their prey, smiling all the while.

" _Earth angel, earth angel,  
Please be mine…"_

They were almost there now. They could see the elevator door behind the turret.

" _My darling dear,  
Love you for all time…"_

It wasn't impossible for Marty to leap the rest of the distance, but he kept going.

" _I'm just a fool,  
A fool in love,  
With you-ooo-ooooooooooooooo…"_

The turret's red eye shut off, becoming as black and dead as the eyes of the dolphins.

The white walls replaced the underwater scenery, returning the test chamber to its typical white design.

Chell and Picard walked around the turret, but Marty stayed put.

Chell saw his face now. The turret came up to Marty's chest. He looked down at it with a pale-faced looked of disgust, as if the turret had just killed his family and was now begging and weeping on its knees for forgiveness.

But the turret just stood there, a deactivated husk.

And still Marty looked like he wanted to rip it to pieces.

Chell approached him and offered her hand.

Marty's head darted up as if he had just awoken from a nightmare. He swallowed and then took Chell's hand, following her to the elevator.

Picard placed a tender hand on Marty's shoulder, and the three entered the elevator.

" _Congratulations,"_ GLaDOS droned. " _As a show of appreciation for your hard work so far, please enjoy some uplifting music,"_

 _Go, Johnny! Go! Go!_

Chell looked at Marty, her mind racing with both contempt for GLaDOS and curiosity and what the turret's song meant to Marty.

 _Go, Johnny! Go! Go!_

She found his head straight ahead the door, glaring at it, hoping, as Chell had done too many times before, that GLaDOS was on the other side so he could dismantle every last bit of her.

 _Go, Johnny! Go! Go!_

In that look, Chell realized; this hadn't been a test.

 _Go, Johnny! Go! Go!_

This had been a taunt.

 _Johnny B. Goode!_

 **V**

There was nothing in the next test chamber.

No turrets. No mazes. No dolphins. No cheese.

Just an empty room with an elevator door at the end.

The three test subjects ventured cautiously into the room, awaiting GLaDOS' dry instructions or some kind of trap, but nothing happened.

Then the elevator door whirred open, and a figure stepped out.

He looked human at first glance, but once Chell got a good look at him, she found that his skin was silver. It wasn't quite metal, but it wasn't quite flesh, either. He held some kind of metallic device like a remote. He was dressed in the same kind of uniform as Picard, only his was yellow.

"Captain," he called, not smiling, his his face flexing in a strangely inviting manner. His voice couldn't quite capture the complete emotion of a human's, but compared to GLaDOS and her turrets, he was a Shakespearean performer.  
"It is such a relief to find you unharmed. We managed to follow a trail of transmat energy here,"

Chell turned to Picard, whose soldier's glare had emerged once again. This time, however, it wasn't just anger. It was fear. Heart-stopping fear.

"Greetings," the silver man addressed Chell and Marty. "I am Lieutenant Commander Data. I am an android serving under Captain Picard aboard the USS _Enterprise._ I have been sent by Commander Riker to rescue Captain Picard, but Federation directive puts the two of you under our protection as well. I will contact the Commander now, and we may beam aboard-"

A glass pipe suddenly fell from the ceiling, trapping Data. He glanced up, as if a bird had flown overhead.

Chell rushed forward with Marty alongside her. Another pipe careened down for them. By the time Chell realized it, it was already down to their necks.

She reacted with maximum haste and minimum thought, bowling her portal gun to Picard.

The captain knelt down and caught it, holding it in both arms like a newborn.

"Something is blocking the transmission signal to the _Enterprise_ …" Data pressed the buttons on his device, calm, but with an intense look on his silver face.  
"I am unable to communicate with the bridge,"

A massive metal cylinder like a robotic fist slid down the pipe, halting just above Data, and then lowering onto him with agonizing slowness.

Chell and Marty found themselves in a thin green cloud, and suffocated by a repugnant smell which was all too familiar to Chell.

Neurotoxin.

Two squares on the floor in front of Picard slid open. A pillar rose out of each of them until they reached his elbows. They were both topped with a palm-sized blue button.

" _The Enrichment Center wishes to remind you that this test has no wrong answer,"_ GLaDOS droned. " _This is merely a survey test to study reactions. The button to your right will liberate your real, living, human testing partners who you have known for barely two hours. The button to your left will liberate the cold, lifeless computer which you call one of your most trusted crew members and best friends. You may select only one,"_

Picard put the gun down and immediately reached for both buttons.

" _Pressing both buttons simultaneously will cause the program to short-circuit, resulting in both groups of participants being eliminated,"_

Picard kept his hands were they were, clenching them into fists.

" _One or the other. The Enrichment Center wishes to remind you again that there is no wrong answer,"_

Chell looked at Data through the mist; he was sitting down, with the metal fist about three feet above his head. He wasn't panicking, but in his stolid silver face and his blank yellow eyes, she saw a weeping scream being smothered by programming.

She turned to Marty, who had pulled his shirt over his nose. Chell knew that she could hold her breath for several minutes. She didn't know about Marty.

Chell peered through the noxious cloud again to find Picard.

He was examining the portal gun, giving it his soldier's glare. He peered into the gauntlet before sliding his hand into it.

He fired at the wall to his right; a blue portal. Then to his right; an orange portal. He glanced down at the device, and a moment later, both portals snapped shut. He had found the reset button.

" _What are you doing, test subject 1500?"_ GLaDOS inquired.

Picard looked at Chell, his soldier's glare softening. At first, Chell thought he was saying, _I'm scared._ She looked closer; he was saying, _I'm sorry._

" _You are running out of time, test subject 1500,"_

Picard re-opened the portals, then approached the blue one, which neighboured Chell and Marty's clouded pipe. He stepped through it, and stopped.

" _This has nothing to do with the test, test subject 1500,"_

Chell looked at the left side of Picard, while his right side stood at the other side of the room, across from Data.

" _What are you doing, test subject 1500?!"_ GLaDOS' dry voice grew louder, nearly deafening her test subjects.

The captain held the portal gun out with his left arm.

Chell banged her fist on the glass, straining to keep her airways closed.

" _WHAT ARE YOU DOING, TEST SUBJECT 1500?!"_

She felt a tear crawl down her cheek.

Not again.

Picard nodded at her, his apologetic eyes threatening to shed tears as well. Then his soldier's glare returned, and turned to find a security camera on the wall. He gave it every fragment of defiance he had to give it.

He did not blink.

The green cloud ascended up the pipe with a short breezing sound, and then the pipe shot up after it.

Chell and Marty fell to their knees, gasping for air.

Chell always forgot how satisfying breathing could be until she was forced to live without it.

Data's tube ascended as well, but its captive remained sitting. His yellow eyes were now black. He did not move.

Chell looked up; Picard was offering his hand. She accepted his help up, and then pulled him into the tightest hug she could give, clinging to him as if he would run off and split himself in half if she let him go.

She kept her eyes open, choosing to see Picard alive and not the divided corpse that still haunted her mind's eye.

Her tears stained his crimson uniform.

Picard soon pulled away, looking at her with eyes that did not shed tears, but desperately wanted to.

He held out her portal gun as if it were a ceremonial sword.

Chell took it, then looked back up at the captain with the most stolid face she could make.

They turned around and found Marty inspecting Data.

Chell and Marty looked at Picard, who shook his head.

" _Proceed to the next chamber,"_ GLaDOS snarled.

Picard led the way with Chell and Marty beside him.

He did not look at Data, or whatever the metal husk they left behind was.

 **VI**

As they entered the next test chamber, they each felt a small jolt at the back of their necks like an electric shock.

The room's floor was littered with dirt and rocks, as if the tiles had been ripped up to reveal their foundation underneath. But the white metal walls were dirty, as well. It seemed that it was the dirt and rock that had been over the metal.

There were three others already in the room. Chell thought they might be more test subjects.

There was a man in a green shirt, jeans, and hiking boots with blood dripping from under his hair. A brown-haired woman with a ponytail and leather jacket who was dotted with bite marks. And an older man wearing a fedora, clutching his limp right arm.

All three of them drew their guns at the sight of the test subjects, who raised their hands.

" _Don't shoot!"_ Marty yelled.

" _We're friends!"_ Picard called.

Chell's heart entered her throat, but this time in a pleasant way. She felt the back of her neck; the muting chip was gone.

"Oh, thank _God!"_ She shouted, her bouncy Boston accent echoing throughout the chamber, perhaps to the irritation of these potential new allies, but she didn't care.  
"I can _talk!_ We can _talk!"_ She slapped a hand each on one of Picard and Marty's shoulders.  
"Say something! I wanna hear what you sound like!"

"Uh…" Marty began. He stopped for a moment, like he had been caught daydreaming in class.  
"Hi, my name's Marty…" Despite his hesitation, Chell loved his voice. After spending so much time listening to sarcastic A.I., it was refreshing to hear something soft and sincere.

"I believe this means we are entering some sort of endgame," Picard said softly, as if hoping Chell would follow his example. His British accent bristled with a certain Shakespearean flair which captivated Chell.

"Yes...Yes, definitely," she lowered her voice accordingly.

She turned back to the trio still aiming their guns at them. Their eyebrows were raised and their fingers trembled.

"Sorry," Chell called to them, stepping forward. They did not move.  
"GLaDOS had muting chips put on us. We haven't been able to speak until just now,"

"Who the hell is Gladys?!" The younger man questioned.

"How do we know you're not working with those shadow people?!" The bite-ridden woman demanded.

"Shadow people?" Marty repeated.

"We were captured by GLaDOS," Chell explained further, making sure to keep her hands in view. She leaned ever so slightly to the left, ready to dodge any incoming fire if necessary.  
"The artificial intelligence who runs this place. I get the feeling you three got here another way,"

"We're archeologists," the older man replied, his gruff voice laced with panting. Looking at his limp arm made Chell feel an ache in her own limb.  
"We came here investigating a cave that just appeared out of nowhere. We've just been ambushed by a bunch of shadow people!"

"What do you mean shadow people?" Picard asked, stepping forward as well. "And please, lower your weapons. I swear to you that we're not your enemies,"

The man in the fedora gave Picard a scrutinizing look from under the rim of his hat, and then holstered his gun. His allies followed suit.

"They might have been human once," he continued. "They're ungodly powerful and serve someone they call the mistress,"

"You think that's who captured us?" Marty suggested, joining the others.

"GLaDOS?" Chell mused. "I don't know...But we're all together. That means we have a common enemy." She extended her hand to the man in the fedora, and handshakes were passed around.

"I'm Chell,"

"Henry Jones,"

"Marty,"

"Lara Croft,"

"Jean-Luc,"

"Nathan Drake,"

"Like the explorer, Sir Francis,"

"My ancestor, actually,"

"Strange; there are no records of Sir Francis Drake having children,"

"No _records,_ but-"

"Didn't we already do this, Drake?" Lara interjected.

"Right, sorry,"

"So how the hell do a kid, an old man, and space boots here end up together on some kind of space station disguised as a cave?" Jones asked.

"Kid?" Marty whispered.

"Space boots?" Chell whispered.

"GLaDOS abducted us from our homes," Picard answered. "I don't know how, but I suspect that perhaps she had these shadow people you mentioned retrieve us. She was testing us, studying our ability to solve problems of physics, memory, and morality,"

"Sounds fun," Drake said, offering a sarcastic smirk. "I like a good puzzle,"

"Fun for her, maybe," Marty added. "We almost died. More than once. She knew all kinds of things about us, even though we'd never even heard of her before. She had this robot clone of one of Picard's crew members... " He exhaled, as if having just put down a tremendous weight.  
"She...She knew which songs I played at my parents' high school dance...Whoever she is, she's been studying us for a long time. Maybe our whole lives,"

"Sounds just like what we went through," Lara responded. "The shadows said they were testing us, too. To see if we were good enough to join them. And they made copies of our mentors, as well,"

"So that's what this is," Chell said. "Training camp for an army of shadow people,"

"Wait, wait," Drake began. He looked at Marty. "Did you say _you_ played at your _parents'_ high school dance?"

Marty scratched his hair and shrugged. "Long story,"

"But we're all still here. Still... _us,_ " Jones began. "Obviously we were in two different camps, and now we're together...So did we meet their expectations?"

" _You_ exceeded _them, Indy!"_ a youthful but powerful voice boomed in their ears.  
" _This is the graduation ceremony!"_

There was a full second of perpetual darkness.

When light returned, the dirt and stone and metal were gone.

The six test subjects found themselves in something like a manor foyer. The decor was a dark purple, bordering on black. Each wooden wall had a single stained glass window, depicting something like the head of a black dragon.

In the center of the foyer was a hexagonal table, dotted with buttons and levers like a console. A glass pillar dipped in and out of it, each time emitting a mechanical whine, as if the building, the ship, or whatever the test subjects were in, was weeping.

Leaning against the console was a man in a black waistcoat with equally dark hair that flowed upwards into jagged shapes like massive horns, giving him a demonic appearance. His eyes were blood red. His skin, just like all the archaeologists' previous opponents, was as black as a shadow.

The archaeologists drew their pistols. Chell aimed her portal gun at the floor between her and the demon. Marty raised his fists.

" _And guess what?!"_ the demon continued, clapping his hands together excitedly.  
" _You've_ all _made the honor roll! But tradition is tradition; we still have to select a valedictorian!"_

"Where is your leader?" Picard demanded, stepping to the front of the group.  
"GLaDOS, or whoever this mistress is-"

Everyone blinked.

 _BANG!_

A smoking pistol had appeared in the demon's clawed right hand, and a wound bleeding a bright scarlet light had appeared in Picard's chest.

" _Picard!"_ Chell and Marty rushed to his side, but he didn't fall.

He only stared at the ceiling, as if too distracted to acknowledge his wound.

" _Thanks for volunteering, cap!"_ the demon bowed. " _Hope you prepared a speech. Aw, who am I kiddin'; you've got a whole novel stuffed in your back pocket, don't ya?"_

"I feel…" Picard gasped, darkness creeping through his face like an infection.  
"I feel...I don't feel…"

" _Alright, guys; give our new alumni their diplomas!"_

 _BLAM!_

Everyone darted around; Nathan Drake stood gaping just like Picard. His wound glowed orange.

Another shadow stood behind him; this one wore what appeared to be part of a skull as a helmet. His right hand was a chainsaw, and his left hand was a smoking shotgun.

" _I'm excited to work with ya, Nate,"_ the shadow said, throwing a shotgun-hand over a petrified Drake's shoulders.  
" _We need more senses of humor in our army,"_

Jones and Croft aimed their pistols at the shadows, but two things like thin, slimy, black tentacles reached down from the ceiling and yanked them out of their hands.

The archaeologists looked up, and found what they first thought was a giant spider reaching for them.

" _Surprise!"_ the newest shadow, not a spider but a man whose limbs bent and stretched in a hauntingly spider-like way, cheered as he plunged his fist into Croft's gut. When he yanked it out, it illuminated with white light as Croft's wound glowed blue.

Jones brought his fist up to strike the spider man, but then felt something burst into his back.

" _That's no way to treat your new comrades, Dr. Jones,"_

Chell looked over Jones' shoulder as he froze, bleeding red light. There was a female shadow grinning back at her with a mouth wide enough to bite Jones' head off.

She tilted her head, as if threatening to do it.

Chell lifted her portal gun, her heart bludgeoning her ribcage as her eyes vomited tears.

She was going to get just one hit in. Just one.

For Marty.

For Picard.

For herself.

She felt something in her chest. It didn't hurt; it was like it had snuck in there.

But her heart suddenly stopped.

Her head tilted right; Marty was frozen, his chest glowing green, and something like a sharp tendril through him.

Chell looked down, and saw that she was in the exact same situation, only with a blue light.

" _How did I fare, Chell?"_ a deep voice, like that of a beast from some infinite abyss, echoed in her ear. A figure walked between her and Marty and turned to face them. He wore a fedora just like Jones. The tendrils curled around his neck like a long scarf.  
" _Was my Aperture just like the real thing?"_ His head twitched, and then he carried on, his voice lifting to something like a chipper goblin.  
" _I'm so pleased; the mistress didn't just improve me, she improved my TARDIS as well_ …" Another twitch, then back as a dignified aristocrat.  
" _The old thing is_ supposed _to be able to disguise itself, but with the mistress' magic, it can_ transform _itself. It can be a cave in the middle of a wheat field, an ancient tomb, even a long-forgotten science facility_ …" he twitched again, and returned as a wise old man.  
" _The mistress wanted you to be tested in very particular ways. The six of you aren't like the others already in her service; not as powerful, but every bit as determined and righteous. She needed to know if it was enough, and fortunately for you, she has decided that it is,"_

He ripped his tendrils from Chell and Marty.

Chell looked around; her allies were all gone.

Only their shadows remained.

She felt cold, but that was okay. She liked the cold.

She felt a seething, burning contempt for GLaDOS and all her tests, but that was okay. She liked hating her.

She felt a festering frustration at the motel receptionist who had ogled at her every day, and at Picard for his earlier gambit, and at the universe for never letting her just have a victory once in her goddamn life.

But that was okay.

She listened to the mechanical whining again. It wasn't weeping after all. It was singing.

The shadows lined up in front of their new recruits.

Chell didn't see shadows anymore. She saw light. The only light anywhere in the cosmos.

She knew their names; Dante, Ash Williams, Peter Parker, Romanadvoratrelundar, the Doctor.

Another light stepped out from behind them, the one brightest of all. She came in a horned hood running down into a black cloak like a cloud carrying her across the ground. Her skin was the most perfect shade of green. Her hands rested on a crystal ball atop a golden scepter.

The crystal ball sang just like the TARDIS.

She smiled at her new Heartless.

Chell shed tears at her smile. That gloriously malevolent smile, comforting her that, finally, after all the trials and tests, she was home.

Chell, Marty McFly, Jean-Luc Picard, Indiana Jones, Lara Croft, Nathan Drake, the Doctor, Romana, Spider-Man, Dante, and Ash Williams got to one knee and bowed their heads at the light they surrounded.

" _All Hail Maleficent, Mistress of All Evil!"_

 _ **CAKE,**_ **or** _ **Portal x Back to the Future x Star Trek: The Next Generation**_

 **Season 1, Episode 6**

 **NEXT TIME ON** _ **JUSTICE LEAGUE INFINITE!**_

Maleficent's army grows larger. Aided by Force-users, demon hunters, a TARDIS, an all-seeing Daredevil, a cunning Starfleet captain, and a band of powerful Experiments, amongst many others, there is no world safe from her wrath.

But in the multiverse's darkest hour, hope comes in a band of unlikely heroes.

An old western sheriff.

A soldier from a Chinese dynasty.

A street rat turned prince.

Two superpowered siblings.

An optimistic police-bunny.

A skeletal king.

And a former SOLDIER.

 _Coming soon!_


	8. S1E7: Fantasy

**Season 1, Episode 7:**

 _ **Fantasy**_

 **I**

How many were there?

Thousands?

Millions?

Billions?

He wondered if there were more appearing every moment, or if they were all dying out one-by-one with still too many existing for him to notice.

He wondered what they looked like up close. He wondered how far away they were.

He thought he might be distracted by the ruins of Midgar in the distance, glaring at him like a long-decayed corpse at a barely surviving cellmate, but he had almost forgotten that they were there.

Almost.

For now, there was only the stars.

"May I join you?"

Cloud Strife was torn from his stargazing. He turned on his back against the mixed ground of rock and grass, keeping a hand near his cumbersome Buster Sword lying beside him.

He found an old friend smiling at him. An old friend on all fours, with blazing orange fur, a black mane, and yellow eyes which seemed petrifying at first, but which Cloud had come to be warmed by.

"Evening, Nan." Cloud patted the stone ground beside him, and Nanaki came to lie there.

"Evening?" Nanaki chuckled as he curled into his seat, his tail thumping the ground in front of him.  
"It's closer to morning now."

Despite his feral appearance, his voice was gentle. For Cloud, the sound of Nanaki's voice and the sight of the stars was the perfect combination.

"Is it?" Cloud sighed. "Time gets away from me these days...How long has it been since we defeated Sephiroth?"

"Barely more than a month." Nanaki's answer hit Cloud like a slap bringing him out of a drunken stupor; he thought it had been half a year at least.  
"I thought you might be helping the survivors from Midgar develop their new city...What name did they decide on, again?"

"Edge…" Cloud sat up and looked down at the two cities in the distance.

To the right; a small but bustling town, dotted with lights and teeming with life. To the left; a towering, dignified, rotting corpse.

"They seem to be doing fine on their own…" Cloud continued. "I'd like to help, but I don't know how. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a soldier. Then I wanted to find Sephiroth. Then I wanted to find out what I really was...Now I'm here. I've done all the things I set out to do. I know I should be happy, but I just feel...Empty…"

He kept looking out at the ruins of Midgar and the blossoming Edge, and felt Nanaki's paw on his hand.

"Sometimes I dream about Professor Hojo…" the beast began. "About the experiments he performed on me. About every vile liquid he smothered me in, every needle he sank into my flesh. And I dream about you and your friends finding me...Do you remember? There were alarms blaring and all kinds of noise and chaos surrounding us...But when I dream of it, it is one of my most peaceful dreams, because it means you're coming to end my suffering and give me my freedom…"

Cloud looked down at nothing in particular. A faint smile had spread across his face.

"That's what you mean to so many people down there, Cloud. At one time, they were suffering, and now they're free, and in between, there's you...You still have a role to play, Cloud. It may seem as though your usefulness to the world has run its course, but I promise you, there are others out there who need your help. You only need to seek them out,"

Cloud looked back up at the stars, enjoying their company for the better part of a minute.

"Thank you, Nan," he said, turning to look at his friend.

He found a gaping maw with orange fur fading to black, and yellow eyes melting to red.

He also found a black-furred monster with long ears like bat wings. Its arm was sunk into Nanaki's back as if into water, sending ripples through his fur, and grinning at Cloud with a forest of sharp yellow teeth.

Though it was a warm night, Cloud was suddenly freezing.

He darted up and turned around, reaching out just in time to catch a plunging arm. Its owner appeared to be a living shadow donning a fedora.

Cloud rolled to his knees and looked at what he held. He expected to find a fist, a claw, or a sword, but instead he found some long, squirming appendage like a tentacle or a whip.

" _Relax, kid,"_ the shadow snarled. " _I'm not gonna hurt ya."_ Its tendril elongated in Cloud's fist, reaching for his neck.

Cloud grasped the handle of his Buster Sword and swung it at the tendril, severing it.

He rolled up to his fighting stance, both hands on his sword with the tip glaring at his opponents. He hadn't assumed this stance in weeks, but he shifted effortlessly into it; not so much like riding a bike as climbing into bed after a tiresome journey.

To his right, a grinning hound of a creature helped a blackened Nanaki to his feet. To his left, a shadow man looked at his steadily regrowing tendril-arm, as if observing a bug crawling on his sleeve. Behind the shadows, pillars of darkness reached up from the ground, widening into shapes like archways.

" _So you wanna play rough?"_ the shadow growled, glaring at Cloud from under the rim of his fedora.

More shadows emerged from each of the archways.

A long-haired woman who had gun barrels instead of fingers.

A man whose jaws were even wider and sharper than Nanaki's, giving him a grin that was both cocky and vicious.

A seemingly younger one balanced on some kind of hovering board, circling the air above the group like a vulture waiting to dine on the loser's remains.

A woman with metallic legs in the bent, jagged shape of a velociraptor's.

At the head of the group, a bald shadow who seemed more machine than man. One of the few organic parts of him, his crimson left eye, glared at Cloud as if trying to reach out of its socket to claw at him.

Behind the group, shrouded in black fog, was a tall, horned figure, her body like a blade raised in the darkness. Cloud couldn't see her face, but he could see her yellow eyes like two stars dragged down from the sky.

For the first time in a while, Cloud felt something festering inside him. Something he had not felt since he had faced Sephiroth for the last time.

" _Alright,"_ the tendril-handed shadow growled, rolling its shoulders. " _We can play rough…Nanaki, right?"_

" _Yes...Dr. Jones,"_ Nanaki snarled. He paced around Cloud, his crimson eyes narrowed and his black teeth bared.

Cloud had seen this face often enough, but always from the side, directed at a common enemy. He had never felt it directed at himself. He couldn't tell if his fear came from the face's genuine intimidation, or from knowing that the face was supposed to be his friend's.

" _Sick 'im,"_ Jones said dismissively.

Nanaki lunged at Cloud, who rotated his Buster Sword into a guarding position. He was already sweating.

This was what he got for being bored.

Nanaki was stopped by a wall of purple light. He swiped at it, but his claws only bounced off of it.

Cloud glanced up; it was not a wall, but a translucent bubble surrounding him.

He wanted this to be a good thing, but in the back of his mind, he knew that he had most likely only jumped out of the frying pan.

He saw the raptor-legged woman grin at him and then sink into the ground.

The air in the bubble was suddenly freezing.

Cloud spun around, swinging his sword.

The shadow woman caught it.

" _What a big sword you have,"_ she sneered, tilting her head and licking her black teeth.  
" _Are you compensating, Strifey?"_

Cloud pulled on his sword, and the shadow pulled back.

"Damn," he whispered.

The purple bubble blinked out of existence.

"Get 'er, Dash!" a young woman's voice ordered from Cloud's right.

He stole a quick look in that direction. There was nobody there.

"On it, Vi!" the voice of a teenager now, followed by a scarlet blur crashing into the shadow woman.

Cloud blinked. The freezing air was blown away from him with a gust of wind. When his eyes opened a nanosecond later, he found the raptor-legged woman on the ground, pinned by the throat by a kid of about fourteen. He was blonde, and wore a red uniform with a black mask, gloves, and boots. On his chest was a golden emblem of the letter _i,_ which glowed in a way that reflected his confident smirk.

"Where the hell did you come from?" Cloud questioned.

"Or thank you, as most people say," the kid replied. "Get him outta here, Al!" he called to the sky.

"Alley- _oop!_ "

Before Cloud could move, he was falling backwards. He braced himself for a hard stone landing, but instead felt something like satin.

He sat up, turning his head to face whoever was piloting the soft hovercraft.

"Wow, that sword must weigh a ton."

The pilot sat cross-legged, looking strangely relaxed for someone in the midst of a battle. He was dressed in what looked to Cloud like royal clothes; white silk and a purple cape that flapped eagerly in the wind. Bright yellow slippers, and a fez on his thick, wavy black hair. His tanned face offered Cloud a friendly albeit cocky grin.

"But how you use it is the important thing, right?" The pilot offered his left hand; his right gripped the handle of a scimitar on his hip.  
"I'm Aladdin."

Cloud slowly obliged the handshake as he looked down. They weren't on a hovercraft. They were on a carpet. A purple carpet adorned with a pattern of miniature diamonds and golden tassels, and feeling perfectly solid despite being supported by nothing but air.

"I'm Cloud," he said automatically, still hypnotized by the thing carrying him and Aladdin. He tore himself away, returning to the battle at hand.  
"Thanks for the save. What the hell are those things? And what have they done to my friend?"

"They're called Heartless," Aladdin answered. "They're working for this lady called Maleficent, _Mistress of all evil,_ " he made a rasping, throaty, gremlin impression.  
"They almost got us, but we got away and formed what you might call a resistance."

"We?" Cloud peered over the carpet's tassels at the battle below.

He found the blonde kid from earlier trading jabs with the tendril-armed Heartless. His fists appeared to be only scarlet blurs as they flew in and out of the Heartless' gut.

The kid stood back-to-back with a young woman with dark neck-length hair, aged about nineteen or twenty and donning the same mask, uniform, and _i_ emblem. She fended off Nanaki, or the thing wearing Nanaki's skin, by throwing crescents of purple light at him.

"Don't hurt him," Cloud shouted down to her, hoping he sounded like a commander, but he had heard the voice of a frightened friend.  
"My friend's still in there!"

"Don't worry, mister," she shouted back, trapping a clawing Nanaki in another of her purple bubbles.  
"I'm great with animals!"

"Those two are Violet and Dash," Aladdin said. "They're part of a team called the Incredibles, who go around stopping crimes. Real glad I didn't run into them during my days as a street rat."

"Street rat?" Cloud raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, right; guess they don't use that term in your world," Aladdin chuckled. "I was homeless. I stole food. I was real good at it, too."

"What do you mean _my_ world?" Cloud questioned.

"...One thing at a time."

Their ears were quaked by a barrage of gunfire from below.

Cloud looked down again, and found the Heartless with gun barrels for fingers clutching the blade of a swordsman coated entirely in dark green armor.

The swordsman's face was only partially visible, and his helmet narrowed in a way that fixated him with a deadly glare.

"That's Mulan," Aladdin said. "Soldier and war hero from a country called China."

The Heartless with the monstrous jaws ran for Mulan's back.

" _Shouldn't bring a sword to a gunfight, pal!"_

Mulan drove a kick into the side of the gun-fingered Heartless' knee, earning an opportunity to swing his sword, with the Heartless still hanging on, across the charging Heartless' chest.

Both creatures let out gargling shrieks as they skidded across the stone ground.

"He's good," Cloud said. He looked at Aladdin and found him smirking.  
"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Aladdin chirped.

Cloud rolled his eyes, then returned his attention to the battle, where he discovered something that, even after all the peculiarities and terrors he had faced while hunting Sephiroth, ranked among the strangest things he had ever seen.

"Is that a giant rabbit?"

"No," Aladdin replied. "She's only about four feet tall."

It wasn't just a four-foot tall rabbit. It was a rabbit with arms and legs like a human's. It was wearing navy blue armor not unlike the police officers in Midgar used to wear. It also had some kind of yellow gun holstered on its hip. Even her face was as expressive as a human's; aside from Nanaki, Cloud had never known any animal to glare as intensely as this rabbit did at her Heartless opponent.

"That's Judy," Aladdin added. "Or _Officer Hopps,_ as she'll tell you. And yes; everyone in her world is an animal."

There was that phrase again; _her_ world, _his_ world, _my_ world, _your_ world. It came so naturally to Aladdin, but Cloud found himself fixated upon it each time. Each usage was like a subconscious reminder that this Maleficent was more than just the next Sephiroth.

" _Aren't you a cute little thing?"_ the raptor-legged woman snarled at Judy.

"Don't call me cute," the officer retorted, putting her fists up. "Seriously; that's really insensitive."

" _Insensitive?"_ The Heartless cackled, dashing at Judy. " _Don't you mean_ heartless?!" It slid to the ground, sending a two-legged sweep at the rabbit's legs.

It was met with a swift leaping back kick in its chin.

Judy landed gracefully on her feet, leading into a casual hop as the Heartless landed on its front.

"Ha ha," Judy groaned. "You've got puns. You got one about how we can turn you guys back to normal?"

" _No…"_ the Heartless growled, glaring back at Judy. It reached its arm into the stone ground, sending ripples through it as if it were water.  
" _But I've got portals!"_

Its hand re-emerged from the ground beside Judy's heel and closed around her ankle.

"Huh? _Waugh!"_

The rabbit sank into the ground, and was pulled out of it again by the Heartless.

" _Now, let's get that pesky little heart outta there-"_

It was met with the barrel of a yellow pistol. The next thing the Heartless knew, a dart was sticking out of its left eyeball.

" _AH! You sneaky little-"_

A sharp kick from the rabbit's free foot sent the raptor-legged woman to the ground, and Judy Hopps was free.

"You alright, Officer Judy?!" Aladdin called down.

"Fine, Al," Judy responded. "Keep an eye out for Maleficent!"

Cloud turned to the other side of the carpet. This time, he found the metallic Heartless facing another of Aladdin's allies. Perhaps not as strange as a police officer rabbit, but strange all the same.

"You have cowboys, too?" he asked Aladdin, observing the man down below.

He was the definitive cowboy image. Blue jeans, sturdy brown boots, a yellow shirt under a cow-patterned vest, a red neckerchief, and a brown stetson that seemed to belong to his tall, broad-chinned head. His belt held a bundle of rope and an empty holster; its occupant pistol was out and pointed at the metallic Heartless, who offered it a left hand which Cloud now saw was actually a cannon.

It was an Old Western standoff if there ever was one.

"That's the Sheriff," Aladdin said. "Woodrow Pride. He comes from a place that's way in my future and probably a decent ways into your past. He's sort of our leader."

"Sort of?"

"Well, we never sat down and voted, but he acts like he's the leader and nobody seems to have a problem with it."

"Guess that's all a leader really needs, huh?" Cloud looked back down at the Sheriff and the metallic Heartless, who were statues in the middle of the chaos surrounding them.

"Listen to me, partner," Pride began, stern but with an aura of pleading.  
"We're not your enemies. _I'm_ not your enemy. I know that you know how we can help you. Just tell me and I'll get it done."

" _You remind me very much of my former self, Sheriff,"_ the Heartless growled. " _Disgustingly benevolent. Too close-minded to imagine that it is my_ Mistress _who has helped me, and that it is_ you _and your_ insufferable _friends who are my true enemies."_

"If you really believe that…" Pride's head lifted, and under the rim of his stetson, Cloud saw his brown eyes. Like his voice, they were kind in spite of their efforts to be strict.  
"Then why haven't you fired yet?"

The Heartless grinned, and its one crimson eye flashed.

" _I was only waiting for_ him _to turn up."_

"Who?"

" _Meega!"_ the furry Heartless pounced onto Woody's back. " _Get him, Jean!"_

The metallic Heartless fired, launching a bolt of green light at the Sheriff.

"Oh, come on!" Pride exclaimed, spinning around so the Heartless on his back took the hit. It grunted, but did not budge.  
"That was a showdown! You can't just interrupt a showdown like that!"

" _This isn't your primitive wooden town, Woodrow,"_ the metallic Heartless snarled. " _We're not playing by your rules."_

"What's wrong with my rules?" Pride muttered, exchanging his pistol for his lasso.  
"They're fair, they're reasonable. Things would be much easier if we all played by my rules." He wrestled his face away from the furry Heartless' swiping claws, then snuck the lasso around the creature's ankle.  
"Fine," he shouted. "Have it your way!" He crouched down and pulled on the rope, and the Heartless slid off of his back and onto the ground.  
"Huh. Thought you'd be heavier, friend." Pride spun the rope above his head, creating a black blur orbiting himself.

" _Hey!"_ the furry Heartless roared. " _This! Naga! Fair!"_

The metallic Heartless fired three shots.

Pride let his lasso loose, sending the furry Heartless hurtling through the projectiles and into its cyborg comrade.

"Al!" Pride called up. "You and our new friend find Maleficent! We're gonna try and box her in!"

"You got it, Sheriff!"

"Yes, sir!" Cloud grasped the handle of his Buster Sword, resting it on his shoulder, and scouring the battlefield for Maleficent, ready to strike.

She wasn't difficult to spot; a horned hood, an aura of black fog, animalistic yellow eyes, and a golden scepter in hand.

Cloud homed in on the scepter, and on the crystal orb at its end. It glowed in the dark fog surrounding its owner, casting a rainbow through the night air. Cloud stared at it, hypnotized as he had been by the stars, and he heard voices. Men, women, children, animals, aliens, and creatures Cloud couldn't even imagine names for.

He heard Nanaki harmonizing with them.

They were all crying.

Cloud flushed with the chill of realization. When he had watched the furry Heartless convert Nanaki, he thought it had been planting something inside him. But what if he had been removing something? Something which now resided inside Maleficent's scepter. And if it had been removed, could it be returned?

There was only one way to find out; Cloud had to get the scepter.

He found Maleficent facing another one of Pride and Aladdin's allies; one which just might top the rabbit police officer.

A towering stickman of a skeleton in a black pinstripe suit.

" _So, we meet once more, O glorious Pumpkin King,"_ Maleficent said, her voice a serpentine whisper even to the carpet-riders high above.  
" _I must confess, having seen you in the flesh, or lack thereof, more than once, your legendary terror seems to elude me."_

"I'm all too familiar with the feeling, my dear Maleficent," the skeleton began, speaking with a bouncy yet operatic voice that filled the air as effectively as Maleficent's.  
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a long wooden baton.  
"But legends, I find, are merely respected rumors. Let me _show_ you why they call me the master of fright!" He grasped the baton and slid his hand along it. It caught fire as it emerged from his fist.

"Who's the tall, bony guy?" Cloud asked.

"Him?" Aladdin began.

The skeleton threw his head back and plunged the blazing baton into his mouth, and his body erupted into flame.

"That's Jack."

Maleficent traced her scepter along the ground in front of her, and thorny branches clawed their way out of the stone, forming a protective wall around her.

With a swift strike from his right hand, Jack sliced through the branches and seized the scepter. He cackled with a deep, demonic roar that was nothing like his former voice.

They struggled. Maleficent maintained her calm disposition, but her face twitched as if ready to burst into flame just like Jack.

Cloud stood up, finding it surprisingly easy to remain balanced on the flying carpet, and prepared to leap down to attack Maleficent.

Before he could jump, Jack flipped backwards, sending the scepter straight up into the air.

Cloud reached out as far as he could, his arm feeling as if it were leaving its socket to go further.

His gloved hand grasped the scepter, as did another shadowy pair of claws.

Cloud looked up into the face of the Heartless on the hovering board.

For a moment, he froze. He was looking into the face of a kid. It wasn't just a shadow; it was the same decayed texture and frigid aroma of a corpse.

Cloud thought of everyone who had been in Midgar.

The Heartless' glowing eyes widened, and its icy face seemed to gain the faintest warmth.

For a moment, Cloud felt hopeful.

" _Oh my God…"_ it whispered, its gaze locked on something behind Cloud. " _What the hell is that?!"_

Cloud didn't think; he just turned his head for the most infantesimal second.

It was enough for the Heartless to get a right hook across his jaw.

"Son of a…"

Any hope of empathy Cloud had was gone for a split second, during which he realized that the Heartless had sacrificed half of its grip on the scepter. He retaliated with a diagonal swing from his Buster Sword, slashing the Heartless across the chest and sending it hurtling to the ground.

He had the scepter.

He had barely realized it when the carpet was hit by a green bolt of light.

Cloud braced himself for an agonizing stone landing, but only felt something cool, like soft, tangible air.

Another purple bubble.

"You got her scepter!" Violet exclaimed, helping Cloud upright. "That's awesome!"

"It'll be _more_ awesome if we can actually do anything with it," he muttered, looking at the glowing rainbow at its tip as his ears were flooded by the weeping choir trapped within.

Cloud looked up and found Aladdin, his downed carpet under one arm, and his scimitar drawn in another as he faced down the furry Heartless, who charged at him with a grin of yellow teeth that were dying to sink into Aladdin's flesh.

"Aladdin, catch!" Cloud threw the scepter, and Aladdin dropped his scimitar for it.

"Sorry if this hurts," Aladdin whispered, lunging the scepter at the Heartless' chest.

It landed in its agile claws.

" _Don't be scared, Ali,"_ the Heartless snickered. " _It feels so good. See?"_ It reached for Aladdin's chest.

The former street rat was caught in a conundrum; move back and save himself while losing the scepter, or push forward, learning more of the scepter's power at the cost of his own heart.

He made a gamble and pushed.

The scepter didn't budge.

Cloud shoved the Buster Sword into the sheath on his back and dashed for the Heartless. He swung himself around its body so his front touched its back. He reached around it, clutching the scepter, and pulled back.

There was a sound like a bell tolling, and then a beam of blue light stretched out of the Heartless' chest towards the stars.

Cloud kept his grip as the Heartless squirmed and kicked in his arms. He struggled with it for only a few seconds, and then it relaxed. Its frigid skin warmed, and its ruffled black fur melted into a cool, watery blue.

A circle of ripples appeared in the air. A clawed black hand reached out of it, seized the scepter, and then retreated.

Cloud spun around, keeping the Heartless close to him. He found Maleficent surrounded by her soldiers, and they were all surrounded by Pride's team.

It was still strange to see Nanaki on the other side of a battle. Cloud would never get used to it. He prayed that he wouldn't have to.

The Sheriff and Judy aimed their guns, Mulan pointed his sword, Dash and Violet had their fists up, and a still-burning Jack tilted his grinning skull.

"Reach for the sky," Pride ordered. "Unless you're curious what gettin' burned by a fiery skeleton is like. Change those good folks back or my posse and I'll _really_ ruin your day."

The raptor-legged woman hissed at the Sheriff, then turned and bowed to Maleficent, holding out the scepter in a ceremonious manner.

" _Thank you, Chell,"_ Maleficent said, taking the scepter as if picking up a newborn child.  
" _You continue to prove yourself among the most valuable of my Heartless."_

" _I owe all my greatness to you, Mistress."_ The Heartless grinned with malicious excitement.

" _They got 626,"_ the tendril-handed Heartless growled, giving Cloud and the creature in his arms the hungry stare of a thirsty traveler finding water.  
" _Want us to get 'im back?"_

Maleficent lifted her head, eyeing Cloud and each of his newfound allies, surveying them, silently scorning them.

She smiled, and Cloud felt his blood turn to ice.

" _Let him stay with this lot for now,"_ she said with a wave of her scepter.

The black fog surrounding her expanded to encompass her Heartless.

" _I have something very special in mind for them...Besides, we still have his nine cousins."_

A wicked cackle breezed through Cloud's ears.

The fog thickened until nothing but the Heartless' glowing eyes could be seen.

A torrent of fire leaped out of Jack's gaping jaw at the fog. The flame coating his body extinguished bit-by-bit.

In one moment, Nanaki's crimson glare was piercing Cloud, and in the next, there was nothing but a smoking, suited skeleton and the ruins of Midgar in the distance.

"Did anyone find the fire-spitting too much?" Jack asked. "I'd appreciate honesty."

"Aw, _man,_ " Dash moaned, dropping his fists lazily to his sides. "I _really_ thought we had 'em that time!"

"It's not a total loss, Dash," Mulan began as he approached Cloud. He sheathed his sword and removed his helmet, revealing a head of straight black hair.

Cloud finally got a good look at his face, and instantly felt foolish.

"We've saved one of them," she finished, studying the blue creature in Cloud's arms.  
"You alright, little guy?"

Cloud looked down and saw his reflection in warm black eyes.

"Yeah. Okitaka," the creature said, his rough yet squeaky voice at a much more soothing volume than the intrusive whispers and growls of the Heartless. He climbed out of Cloud's arms and hugged the swordsman.  
"Thanks for saving meega."

"Don't mention it…" Cloud stroked the creature's back. He thought Aladdin's carpet had been particularly soft, but he found himself wanting to bury his face in this creature's fur. The only thing keeping him from doing so was the fear of what the creature might do to him in retaliation.  
"Are...Are you hugging me with your legs?"

"Oh, naga." The creature pulled away, offering Cloud a grateful and chipper smile.  
"I have four arms. See?" Four sets of claws wiggled in front of Cloud's face. Two of them then burrowed their way back into the creature's waist.

He thought this would startle him, but by that point, he was beginning to simply accept every strange thing that came his way.

The creature's smile softened.

"Sorry about Nanaki."

Cloud said nothing. He pictured the furry Heartless with its arm in Nanaki's back, and tried to see it as the same creature he now held. He could not do it.

"But you save meega, so we can save Nanaki, too."

The creature hopped to the ground, where he found the rest of Pride's team waiting to meet him. Judy was the shortest of them, and the creature came up to just below her chest.

"Thanks everyone so much," he chirped. "You are all my new friends. My name Stitch. Your names?"

"I'm the Dash. Pleased to meet you, Stitch." Dash crouched and shook his hand, creating a red-and-blue blur between them.

" _Woooooah. Niiiiiice toooooo meeeeet yooooooou, tooooo, Daaaaaash."_

"I'm Violet."

"Hey, Violet. Cool mask."

"My name's Mulan."

"Wow, big sword. Youga strong."

"Sheriff Woodrow Pride, or Woody if you're in a rush. Sorry for hurlin' you around earlier."

"All good. I like your hat, Sheriff Woody."

"Thanks, partner."

"I am Jack Skellington." The skeleton bowed. Even then, he still had to look down at his allies.  
"Pumpkin King of Halloweentown."

"Ooh. Your majesty." Stitch bowed as well. His ears drooped behind his head.

"Officer Judy Hopps."

"Hey Jude." Stitch laughed and then sang. "Don't make it bad...Something wrong?"

"No, it's just, uh…" Judy's eyes glanced down Stitch's body, then fled back to his grinning face.  
"Looks like they took your clothes when they made you a Heartless."

Stitch looked down, then came back up with another laugh.

"Oh, naga. I do not wear clothes. I have fur." He rubbed his own belly.

"...Other worlds are weird," Judy sighed, shaking her head.

"I'm Aladdin."

"Hey, Al." Stitch waved. "Can I have a magic carpet ride, please, Al?"

"If it's alright with Carpet." Aladdin looked down at the rug under his arm.

It lifted one of its tassels in the shape of a thumbs up.

Cloud was beginning to think that the world was just teasing him with its strangeness now.

"He seems good for it," Aladdin chuckled.

"Awesome," Stitch cheered. He turned to Cloud.  
"Youga?"

"Cloud Strife."

"Cloud," Stitch giggled. "You really rain on Maleficent's parade."

Judy, Mulan, and Aladdin chuckled. Dash clapped his hands and let out a bellowing " _Ha!"_

Cloud rolled his eyes. "Alright, if we're all acquainted, could someone _please_ explain what _exactly_ is going on, and what happened to my friend?"

"Right. Sorry, Mr. Strife…" Woody stepped forward. "Far as we know, Maleficent is some sorta entity from another world-"

"You all keep saying that."

"What?"

"You and your team keep talking about other worlds. What do you mean? Other planets? Other realities?"

Woody removed his hat and scratched his sleek brown hair.

"Kind of," he said through his teeth. "I really wish Buzz were here. All this space-and-time stuff is more his deal…" He slapped his stetson back on his head, then carried on with improved conviction.  
"You've got your planet, right? Earth or whatever it's called here. And the moon and the stars and everything else."

Cloud looked up at the stars, which invited him to lose himself in them again.

 _I will_ , he thought, _but not right now._

"Right," he nodded.

"Well," Woody continued. "It turns out that there's thousands, probably millions and billions of them over and over, a lot of them similar, but a lot of them completely different. In one of 'em, you got animals instead of people, in another, you got a town run by monsters. No offense, Jack."

"None taken, Sheriff," the skeleton chirped as if he had been complimented.

"And so on and so forth," Woody carried on. "And normally we'd all stay where we should be-"

"But then Maleficent comes along," Cloud finished.

"Exactly." Woody snapped his fingers. "We don't know what exactly she's planning, but we know that it's nothin' good, that it's bad for everybody in every world out there, and that she needs somethin' from people like us to do it."

"So she's traveling between worlds building an army out of certain people from each one," Cloud replied. "So how did you all get away from her?"

"She lured us into some shape-changin' spaceship that can jump in and out of worlds. It's mostly thanks to the Incredibles over here that we got out." Woody smiled at Violet and Dash.

"Oh, yeah," Dash exclaimed, his freckled face lighting up as he spoke as fast as he could run.  
"They had us on this giant spaceship and Vi made a forcefield and I ran us around in it and we found the Sheriff and the others and we picked 'em up and we were all rolling around in the forcefield and we ran over these guys with swords and we burst out the door and we were falling but the forcefield broke our fall-"

"We got out. Barely," Violet interjected, her sullen face contradicting her brother's excitement.  
"But they got Jayjay."

Dash stopped, and his expression dropped to match his sister's.

"Yeah...And Mom and Dad."

"And my partner, Nick," Judy added, her long ears falling behind her head.

"My friend, General Shang." Mulan looked out at the two cities in the distance.

"My buddy, the Genie." Aladdin looked down at the Carpet again; it drooped just as Judy's ears had.

"My dear Sally." Jack placed both bony hands over his chest. Even without skin, his face infected Cloud with its melancholy.

"My old pal, Buzz." Woody lowered his head, the rim of his stetson shadowing his eyes.

"My ohana." Stitch looked down at his clawed feet.

"But having you here is great news for us, Stitch." Violet managed a smile as she knelt down beside the Experiment. She scratched behind his right ear, and he lifted his head and purred.  
"Because if we can change you back, then we can change all the Heartless back."

"But we need Maleficent's scepter," Cloud said. "And we have no idea where to find her. She could already have gone to the next world on her list by now."

"I know," Stitch piped up, raising an eager claw.

"You do?"

"Ih. Still remember _everything_ from being Heartless…" he trailed off, his black eyes staring off into space for a while.

Cloud's hand wandered to the handle of his Buster Sword.

"Maleficent is in TARDIS." Stitch smiled as if unaware of his pause.

"TARDIS?" Cloud asked.

"Ih." The Experiment leaped at Woody's head, swiping his stetson, somersaulting in midair, and then landing like a leaf behind him.

"Hey," the Sheriff snapped, spinning around to find Stitch wearing the hat and puffing out his chest in a pompous manner.

"Time And Ree-Lay-Ted Dye-Men-Shuns In Space," he declared in his deepest voice. He laughed and tossed the hat back to Woody.  
"Doctor's ship. Outside changes and inside is _huge!"_ He threw his arms outward. "Goes through time and to other worlds. Maleficent and Heartless bring people in, and right now, they are…" He shut his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, he spun around and pointed at the ruins of Midgar in the distance.  
" _There!"_

"They're in Midgar?" Cloud asked.

"Ih," Stitch nodded. "TARDIS looks like old building now. If we get close, meega find it."

"This has gotta be a trap," Mulan said. "Maleficent must have known that you'd remember all this. She's probably preparing a welcome party for us right now."

"She definitely is," Woody replied. "But what else can we do? And we've been doin' pretty darn good so far, and now we've got Cloud and his gigantic sword and Stitch and his Heartless expertise. Best we can do is try."

"Is there anyone we should be _especially_ on our guard for?" Cloud asked. "Besides Maleficent herself, obviously. And the portal girl."

"Ih. Matt." Stitch brought his fingers to his head, making the shape of devil horns.  
"Daredevil. He sees _everything."_

"Everything…" Cloud repeated. "Including our conversation right now?"

Stitch nodded.

"So Nosy Matt's listening to all our plans," Judy sighed. "...Well, then we've just gotta change him back first."

"We won't be able to get the drop on him, though," Cloud replied. "If Stitch means what I think he does, then he'll be able to anticipate all our moves."

"Then we'll all jump him at once. He'll see it coming, but we can still get him if we're quick enough."

"It's a tough one," Woody said, one hand on his belt and the other on his chin.  
"The toughest I'm bettin' any of us have ever faced. But we've come this far; the least we can do is try. If we win, we win. If not…" He turned and looked out at Midgar.  
"Then at least we all get to be with our friends and families again…"

He looked at the city for a while, as did Cloud, who had a strange realization. For now, he thought of what had become of Nanaki as something to avoid, like death. In fact, he thought that he should prefer death over it. But he knew that, should he become a Heartless, once it had happened, he would not mind it at all.

It might even make him happy.

Woody clapped his hands.

"But first we gotta get over there, and fast. Maleficent might be waitin' on us, but she may just as well be gearin' up to move on to the next world on her list."

"Ooh! Ooh!" Dash turned to his sister. "Let's do the thing!"

"What thing?" Cloud questioned.

Violet sighed and shook her head. "I guess there's no other way."

"What thing?" Cloud repeated more firmly.

Dash rubbed his hands together and grinned.

 **II**

They were inside the bubble for about twenty-one seconds. Twenty-one seconds of Cloud floating around inside the speeding bubble, and Cloud's stomach floating around inside him.

The sight of the wasteland and the buildings passing them in a blur only contributed to the nausea.

Cloud looked between each of his allies. Dash grinned as he sprinted. Violet's face was tense and concentrated as she kept her glowing, gloved palms opened at the surrounding bubble. Everyone else looked as discomforted as Cloud felt. Even Jack looked like he might soon reprise his fire-spitting stunt.

"Aloha Oe…" Stitch hummed, his light voice trembling as the bubble sped across the charred ground of Midgar.  
"Aloha Oe...Until we...Meet...Again…"

The towers of Midgar, which now all stood at only a fraction of their original heights, seemed to blend into a single jittering structure.

" _Here!"_ Stitch declared.

Dash skidded to a halt, his boots screeching against the ground and shrouding the bubble in a cloud of dust and ashes.

Cloud was thankful that he didn't vomit.

Violet closed her fists, and the bubble blinked out of existence, dropping its passengers to the ground.

Woody and Aladdin stumbled before gaining their balance, while everyone else found their footing immediately.

"TARDIS is here," Stitch said, moving to the front of the group and studying each building.  
"One of these. Need moment to remember."

"Mind if I ask you something, Cloud?" Mulan began.

"Shoot," he said automatically, his attention on Stitch, anxious for him to pipe up with the building they were looking for.

"Where did you get that gigantic sword?"

Cloud looked at her; she was clutching the hilt of her own sword. He then realized that he was holding his own sword's handle as well.

"The Buster? It was given to me by an old friend of mine; Zack Fair. We served in SOLDIER together until he was killed."

Mulan didn't answer straight away, but she unhanded her sword.

"My condolences…"

"It's fine," Cloud shrugged, still clutching his sword. "It was ages ago. Sometimes I wish he was still around. Sometimes I'm even angry that he isn't. But...You learn to live with it, you know?"

Mulan only nodded. Her face, even from under her helmet, was peculiar to Cloud; it was both as soft as Tifa's but as rugged as Vincent's. As infuriated as Barret's but as welcoming as Aerith's. The others all had faces that seemed tailored for them; Cloud even recalled his own reflection as looking sullen and grim. But Mulan's face looked like everything; anything she might want it to be.

"What about yours?" He pointed to her sword.

She looked down at it. "It was my father's."

"How's he?"

"Still with us. For now…" She sighed, keeping her gaze on her sword. "I don't like leaving him for so long. If something happens to him, even if he doesn't make it, I should be there. I don't want his final thought to be wondering if I'm going to make it home...And I don't want to miss my only chance to say goodbye..."

"You won't." Cloud replied.

He clutched his sword tighter, feeling, for a moment, the warm, sweating flesh of Zack's palm.

"You'll make sure of it. We all will."

"I know we will," Mulan said. "Doesn't stop that thought from nagging at-"

There were three flashes of blinding white light; the first two were accompanied by bangs like gunshots, and the third by a lasting mechanical screech.

 **III**

Woody unshielded his eyes as the light died down.

He thought he would be used to space machines by now. And yet, even years after discovering Buzz's blue-and-white pod crashed at the outskirts of Andes-Rume, he still marveled at the silver vehicle he found suspended in the air, its front end directed straight down at the ground.

At the vehicle's rear were two black thrusters and a white pillar-shaped tank bearing the name, _Mr. Fusion._ Its spinning tires glowed with a fiery mixture of blue and orange, and its metal was coated in a layer of frost.

Woody looked down; Stitch was holding the car aloft with a single extended hand. He looked down further at the alien's feet; the ground had cracked beneath them.

The Sheriff gave an impressed whistle which nobody heard over the mechanical screeching.

What they did hear, however, was an aged voice inside the machine yelling, " _Great Scott!"_

"What magnificent strength you have, my new friend!" Jack cheered as Stitch brought the car's underside onto his other hand as gently as possible.

Another careful maneuver, and the machine was grounded without so much as a scratch.

A plate at its front read; _OUTATIME._

Stitch spun around and flexed his muscles with smug triumph, then shook his hands. "So cold."

Woody heard Dash whisper to Violet, "I'm so glad we got him and not the one with the huge mouth."

Though he felt a twinge of sympathy for the big-jawed Heartless, Woody had to agree.

The machine's doors opened; one on each side, and going upwards into the shape of a bird's wings. Four men stepped out.

Woody let out a sigh of relief; they were not Heartless.

The driver was an old man with white hair shooting out of his head like a frozen explosion. He wore a brown jacket over a purple shirt and a transparent plastic tie. He looked at the people and creatures in front of his vehicle with wide eyes burning with astonishment.

The shotgun passenger wore a crimson uniform with a black lower half. He clutched a metal device; something like a remote. He was significantly younger than the driver, and had a beard that complimented his stern, skeptical expression.

The back left passenger had a similar uniform, but yellow. His skin was a metallic silver, and his calm face seemed hesitant to show any kind of surprise.

The last passenger also wore a yellow uniform, but had brown skin like leather, and a broad forehead brimming with wrinkles. He had a thick eyebrows beard even richer than his red-uniformed comrade's. He aimed a different kind of silver remote at Woody and his allies.

The Sheriff felt the second of panic that he always felt when he was put at the end of a gun. Then he exhaled and made his move.

"Woah there, partner!" He threw his hands up. "Relax. I've got a feeling we might be friends."

The man in the red uniform looked behind over his shoulder, then pushed his ally's gun down.

"Watch where you point that, Worf," he urged. "We don't know for sure if they're hostile yet!"

"Their blue animal nearly destroyed our vehicle," the leather-skinned man responded, his deep voice offering no repentance.

"In their defense, Lieutenant Commander," the silver man began, his voice, like his face, not quite human but not completely mechanical either.  
"Had he not caught our vehicle, it is most likely that we would have struck him and his companions. Such a hit, especially at the speed we were traveling at, would surely have been fatal. His actions, I believe, can be forgiven as being in self-defense."

"Hm...Very well," the leather-skinned man growled, holstering his weapon on his belt.

Woody let his arms drop, sighing with satisfaction. He kept his eyes on the leather-skinned man, who looked strangely disappointed.

"I can't apologize enough for all this..." the red-uniformed man approached Woody.  
"Out of curiosity, would you all happen to be searching for some friends or loved ones who mysteriously disappeared?"

"In a nutshell," Woody answered. "And don't worry about it. I'm just happy to meet a few more people who aren't workin' for some otherworldly sorceress." He offered his hand, and the man obliged it with a dignified smile.  
"Sheriff Woody Pride. This here's my, uh, round-up gang." He looked back at them, and was met with unanimous raised eyebrows. He responded them with a smile and a shrug.

"The tall one's Jack," he continued.

"Greetings," the skeleton chirped.

"There's Violet."

"Hey."

"Dash."

"Yo."

"Officer Hopps."

"Good to meet ya."

"Mulan,"

"Good evening."

"Aladdin."

"Hi."

"Cloud."

Cloud nodded.

"And the one who picked up your ship is Stitch."

"Pleased to meet all of you." The man looked at each of them, smiling a strict sort of smile which Woody had seen Buzz make often, and which he knew himself to make often, as well.  
"I am Commander William Riker of the USS _Enterprise._ With me are Lieutenant Commanders Worf and Data, as well as Dr. Brown…"

He looked down at the machine's front, and found the driver crouched, frantically studying Stitch's volunteered right arm.

"Fascinating," he muttered. "You have very little muscle tissue, yet you caught and lifted the Delorean as easily as a baseball. How is it done? Nanotech? Genetic augmentation?"

"Lots of fruit and veggies," Stitch answered with a grin.

"Dr. Brown?" Riker repeated.

"Yes, Commander? _Oh!"_ The doctor turned and jolted at the sight of the others, as if they had snuck up on him. He leaped up, straightening his lapels and waving.  
"Good afternoon, or morning or evening; I'm sure you know which. Dr. Emmett Brown, at your service."

"If you don't mind my saying," Riker began. "Your round-up seems a little mismatched. Diversity is always welcome, but some of you seem to be from different time periods."

Woody opened his mouth, but Dr. Brown beat him to it.

"That's only to be expected, Commander." Brown jumped between Riker and Woody.  
"That temporal energy we've been tracking; it means that our mysterious kidnapper is a time traveler. It's only natural that a search party should form out of cowboys and ancient Chinese soldiers and what-not."  
He gave Jack a particularly wide-eyed look.  
"Although I'm afraid I can't possibly explain the animated skeleton."

"Don't fret, doctor," Jack laughed. "I can't possibly explain it either."

"So where the heck are you guys coming from?" Judy asked.

"From a few decades ago." Brown answered.

"Wait." Dash hopped in place. "You mean that thing's a time machine?!"  
He sprinted to the ajar driver's door, gaping with delighted awe at its interior of blinking lights.  
"Wow, this car's even cooler than the Incredibile! Can it fly?!"

"Extraordinary speed…" Brown muttered. He shook his head, then returned to the rest of the group.  
"Our respective searches brought us together, and we've since been following a trail of temporal energy. We...How did you put it, Commander?"

"Beamed down."

"Yes; we beamed down with the Delorean to this planet a few decades earlier. Hopefully, we're now in the right _time_ as well as the right place."

"Now, then…" Riker turned back to Woody, his smile fading. "If you're all here for the same reason we are, then we'd be interested to know what you know."

"Well, to cut it down for time's sake," the Sheriff replied. "The big mastermind you're lookin' for is Maleficent; some evil sorceress from another universe way out there. She's hoppin' through time and space, grabbin' people and changin' 'em for her own personal army-"

"What do you mean changing?" Riker interjected. "Because I believe this Maleficent may have drafted the best Starfleet captain I know into her army."

"She's draining some kind of energy from people," Aladdin explained. "Turning them into monsters she calls Heartless."

"Heartless?" Data repeated. "That name implies that they have had their hearts removed, which would surely kill them. But your description leads me to believe that 'heart' means something different in this context."

"Thanks for clearing that up," Cloud muttered.

Data looked at him, and though his face was static, something in his yellow eyes seemed to scoff at the swordsman's sarcasm.

"Traditionally," he continued. "A heart is considered symbolic of love, compassion, and other positive traits and emotions. Is it possible that Maleficent is harvesting a type of positive energy which is generated by living beings?"

"So Maleficent is farming people's compassion?" Cloud grunted.

Woody returned to his first time in the TARDIS. He remembered Buzz's eyes as Maleficent's scepter went through him. He had looked at Woody first with a stolid look of duty, but as he melted into his new monstrous, winged body, he had looked instead with a kind of seething Woody had never known him to be capable of.  
Woody was both chilled and enlightened by the memory.  
He turned to Cloud. "Would that really be the strangest thing you'd ever heard of?"

The swordsman's face darkened. His answer came a moment later.

"No," he said. "No, it wouldn't."

"Well, why don't we consult our resident ex-Heartless?" Woody smiled down at Stitch.

"You've been behind enemy lines?!" Worf knelt down by Stitch, giving him an intense, interrogative look. His leathery face stretched with anticipation.  
"Then you must know what they've done with Captain Picard! Is he alive?!"

"And Marty?" Brown knelt down as well, reaching into his coat and unrolling a newspaper.

There was a photograph of a smiling teenager with an electric guitar. The date; October 19th, 1986. The headline; _Local Student Missing._

"Have you seen Marty?" Brown's aged, gravely voice was soft, but his eyes roared with desperation.

"Ih. Jean and Marty are alive," Stitch nodded, his nose wrinkling as Worf leaned in closer.  
"Woody and friends fight them back outside city. Heartless, like meega…" He turned to Data, whose face, though unchanged, somehow seemed frightened.  
"Data right. Maleficent take good things from people. Warm things. Picard not think of crew, Marty not think of Doc...Stitch not think of Lilo…"

He stared into space again, as if he had left his body and was being shoved back into a Heartless shell.

"Only cold left…"

"The swine," Worf growled, clenching his fist.

"Well, we're doing nothing for them by standing here," Riker said, looking down at the device he held. It beeped anxiously.  
"Scanner says that the trail of temporal energy originates here, and Dr. Brown is certain that this is the correct point in time, so we need to go-"

"There!" Stitch pointed to a building on his right, no more or less decayed than any other structure in Midgar. He looked back at his allies, his black eyes offering a watery mixture of hope and terror.  
"Our ohanas are inside."

"Thank you, Stitch," Riker nodded. "Your information has been invaluable." He turned to Woody.  
"So, what exactly is our plan when we get inside?"

"We've got two goals," the Sheriff began, counting them off on his fingers.  
"Grab Maleficent's scepter, which we'll need to change all our friends back, and take out this all-seein' Heartless called Matt."

"All-seeing?" Riker raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't that complicate things?"

"A little," Woody smiled. "But we discussed it, and we think we can take him out if we overwhelm him."

He said it with conviction, but as Riker's face darkened, he began to realize just how difficult the upcoming battle was going to be. But he suppressed his doubt; it wasn't going to help Buzz.

"I suppose there's only so much one can do to fight someone who can see everything, isn't there?" He wiped his brow; he was sweating as if he could feel Matt breathing down his neck.

"We have to take the risk," Brown urged. "Even if we _are_ doomed, it's better to go and face it than to try and run from it."

"What a cheery bunch," Judy whispered to Violet.

"It's been a cheery day," the superheroine shrugged.

"Hm. Touche."

 _Don't worry, partners,_ Woody thought. _Nearly over. One way or another.  
_ "Well, what're we waitin' for?" He straightened his stetson and turned to face the disguised TARDIS.  
His smirk glowed with confidence as he struggled to ignore his quaking heart.  
"Let's go get 'er."

 **IV**

He settled down into his seat and looked up at the only thing he had for company.

Its entire body, from its broad torso of black smoke to its wisp of a tail, was strapped to its place in the air by a jungle of wires and an intersecting map of magical symbols of the darkest shades of red and green. Its bearded face encompassed the ceiling, and was frozen in a grim expression that looked asleep but longed to be dead.

It had been welcome to join the Mistress' ranks and share in her glory, but even as a Heartless, the Genie would not serve anyone.

This was the alternative.

The Genie's crimson eyes opened, using every ounce of its remaining strength to gain only the faintest sliver of vision.

It found the man in the chair and stared at him, begging him.

Matt Murdock shook his head.

He looked away from the Genie, shut his eyes, and got to work.

The Mistress had told him that the Genie's magic would provide a great many benefits for all of them; from furthering the TARDIS' travel and disguise capabilities to boosting Skywalker's connection to the Force. Among these benefits, supposedly, was an improvement in Matt's own ability to focus.

He could see, and for that he was eternally grateful, but he did not always have complete control over what he saw. This was helpful during his regular scans of the multiverse for potential Heartless, but less so during his field missions.

He remembered testing Nathan Drake; holding him at gunpoint in one moment, then watching a man in black fleeing across a desert in the next, then watching a fly writhing in a web in the one after, and only returning to Drake after seventeen seconds of distractions.

Hopefully, the Genie would help rectify this. What better way to find out than by looking for the Sheriff and the Commander who were en route to the TARDIS at that very moment?

He saw the black of his own eyelids.

He saw a young blonde traveler in a green tunic, stopping in the forest to rest and play his ocarina.

He saw a towering, demonic beast of a detective, leaving behind his latest victory, and bringing a cigar to his mouth with his massive stone right hand.

He saw the pale ghost of an old, bearded face. A face which had not left him alone in days. The face of the old Matt Murdock's friend; Doctor Stephen Strange.

Matt's eyes snapped open. He had hoped that the Genie's magic would also keep Strange out.

He thought he might simply suggest that the Mistress go recruit Strange, but he didn't have to see him to know that he had the best possible defense ready; the Avengers, X-Men, Fantastic Four, and perhaps even more were almost certainly gathered in the Sanctum Sanctorum, waiting.

Capturing the Genie had been enough of a challenge; one which had cost the Mistress seven would-be Heartless. Matt knew that the Mistress would not take another risk until she had amassed an even greater number of Heartless.

Matt believed that she could do it, but he knew that it was not his place to question her, especially not after all she had done for him.

She had already lost one of her more valuable Heartless. Matt was still thankful that it had been 626 and not him; the thought of returning to that feeble, shallow state the Mistress had found him in scorched his soul.

The others despised the traitor, but Matt pitied him.

He returned to his work, careful not to look in the same direction as Strange.

He saw a quartet of masked amphibious creatures darting through the New York sewers.

He saw a trio of teenaged wizards laughing as they passed around a small box labeled; _Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans._

He saw the Doctor and Romana leaning against the TARDIS console, cracking their black grins as the door creaked open, casting a thin bar of light across the pitch dark room.

He saw the Sheriff lead the way inside, careful to tread lightly on the metal floor. Though each of his colorful allies were lost in the darkness, Matt could see them as clear as day.

About half a minute passed. Matt could still see them. He matched the Time Lords' grins; the Genie's magic was working.

"Worf, Data, set phasers to stun."

"Ow. Careful, Dash. That was my foot."

"That wasn't me."

"Sorry, Vi. One of the downsides of having big rabbit's feet."

"Perhaps our mission would be more easily and safely carried out with the aid of a light source."

"Here; I have a flashlight."

"Much appreciated, Dr. Brown."

Matt imprisoned a laugh behind his teeth as the time traveler clicked on his flashlight, and the expansive console room was immediately brightened by the grinning, red-eyed face of the Doctor.

" _Who's that inside our TARDIS?!"_ He roared in the voice of the old man.

"Open fire!" Riker ordered.

He, Worf, Data, Woody, and Judy fired their respective firearms, while Violet hurled discs of purple light.

Cloud scraped the tip of his Buster Sword along the floor, sending a golden crescent of light speeding towards the console.

The Doctor and Romana knelt down behind the console, which took all the punishment, and yet didn't sustain so much as a scratch.

" _How rude,"_ Romana shouted over the gunfire. " _They break into our home_ and _shoot at us!"_

" _Savages,"_ the Doctor snarled in the aristocrat's voice. " _I say we have their friends come out and teach them some manners!"_

An bullet of black light flew out of the darkness, into the storm of projectiles, and towards Violet.

Matt rubbed his hands together; he hadn't felt this kind of excitement since he had listened to his father's boxing matches over the radio as a child.

Violet saw the bullet and showed it her glowing palm.

The projectile was trapped in a purple bubble, and then seemed to sink into the air.

It burst out of the floor behind Violet and pierced through her. Her chest vomited a beam of purple light.

" _Violet!"_ Dash screamed. He tried desperately to plug up his sister's wound, but, to Matt's expectation and amusement, he only felt the reinforced rubber of her costume under the blinding light.

Stitch, Jack, and Dr. Brown ran to Violet's side as well.

"Great Scott," Brown whispered. "What's happening to her? Is this what happened to…?" He looked at Stitch, who, after a moment of staring coldly at the purple light, nodded.

"No! No, Violet…" Dash's voice weakened. He clung to his sister as tears poured from his mask.  
"Please...Don't leave me alone…"

"Dash…" Violet said, her voice gaining a faint echo, her skin fading to black, and her eyes freezing into a bloody red. Her arms were stiff at her side.  
"It's cold…"

A trickle of laughter escaped Matt's teeth.

 _Matthew._

" _Piss off, Strange."_

He remained fixated on the console room.

" _Thanks for portal, Chell,"_ a high but raspy voice called from the darkness.

" _Sure thing, 621. I'd hate for you to ever miss your target,"_

Chell stepped out of the darkness behind the console alongside 621; each of his four clawed hands gripped a blaster that matched his crimson eyes.

Chell held out her palm as she stepped around the console; every projectile that came their way vanished in an airborne pool of ripples.

The Doctor and Romana stepped out from behind the console, smiling comfortably as if under an umbrella watching the rain.

Violet was now completely changed.

Stitch, Jack, and Brown backed away from her.

"Sorry, Vi…" Stitch whispered, blinking tears from his eyes.

Dash still clung to her. He looked over his shoulder at the grinning Heartless.

The shooting stopped.

Dash wiped his eyes and charged at the Heartless, filling the room with a biting chill.

"No, Dash!" Woody yelled.

The speedster let out an enraged cry as he hurled his blurred fist at the sneering Heartless.

There was a flash of blue light.

" _You finally made it, bro!"_

A child half Dash's age and height had appeared. His chest bore a jagged, green version of the _i_ emblem, and his arm was in Dash's chest. The kid basked in the resulting ray of golden light.

"J...Jayjay…" Dash gasped.

" _That's right, bro,"_ Jayjay whispered. " _It's me. And look who else…"_

He snapped his fingers, and two more Heartless appeared beside him. One of them an impossibly thin woman whose body and limbs slithered through the air, and a hulking beast of a man, both bearing the same distorted _i_ symbol.

Dash was frozen where he stood, but he managed a final bout of tears.

" _It's okay, bro,"_ Jayjay said with a tilt of his head. " _We're all together again."_

Matt unleashed the most bellowing laugh he would ever make.

"Everyone grab a partner," Woody ordered. "Choose a Heartless and take them-"

Suddenly, each individual who was not a Heartless was trapped in their own translucent black bubble.

" _That's enough of your plans, Sheriff,"_ Violet said, sidestepping towards her family while keeping only a single glowing palm open at her former allies.

By the time she had reached the console, Jayjay had released a fully transformed Dash.

" _We're so glad you kids can finally join the Mistress."_ Elastigirl snaked an elongated arm over Dash's shoulders.

" _We always knew you would make her proud."_ Mr. Incredible rested a gigantic hand on Violet's shoulder, nearly covering her entire torso.

Jayjay stepped between his siblings and took each of their hands.

The family grinned at their prisoners.

The Incredibles were together again.

 _We act normal, Mom, but I wanna BE normal!_

 _But Dad said our powers are nothing to be ashamed of. Our powers make us special._

 _I like movies. I'll buy the popcorn._

 _Does this mean we're gonna have to move again?_

 _Well, I renounce my renunciation!_

 _Wow, this car does anything I say!_

 _Matthew._

Matt shook his head, which was suddenly pulsating with a painful heat.

He had to focus; he knew that he was about to be hit with more new memories at once than he or his comrades had ever received before, but he could not, _would_ not let them distract him.

He shut his eyes and returned to the console room.

A pillar of black smoke had risen from the floor in front of the Incredibles. It evaporated, and there she was; their Mistress. Their savior.

Matt felt cold at the sight of her; the kind of welcome cold when the first rain falls at the end of summer.

" _I'm so pleased you could all make it to your orientation,"_ she announced to the prisoners.

Though she was so far away from Matt, her wonderful voice echoed delightfully in his ears.

The prisoners banged on their respective bubbles.

" _First things first...Violet; return 626 to his...Ohana,"_ she snarled.

" _With pleasure, Mistress."_

"Naga!"

Stitch's bubble veered to his left. It dissolved, and he landed in the waiting arms of his cousins, who came pouring out of the darkness.

621 darted over to them, pressing a blaster against Stitch's nose.

" _And the raven, never flitting,"_ 627 growled, pulling Stitch's arms behind his back. " _Still is sitting, still is sitting…"_

" _This what youga get for leaving,"_ 624 spat as her pointed antennae curled around the traitor's throat.

"Boojiboo," the traitor coughed.

" _Youga watch new friends get fixed,"_ 149 grasped his jaw.

" _And then get fixed again,"_ 345 cackled, his elongated fingers prying Stitch's eyes open, letting his tears flow freely down his cheeks.  
" _Enjoy the show!"_

Matt was filled with an icy satisfaction at the sight. The only things he enjoyed more were the faces of the Sheriff and the Commander; both of them keeping their jaws shut and their eyes narrow, as if they actually had some kind of escape plan.

It was both hilarious and pathetic.

" _To preserve time,"_ the Mistress began. " _I shall debrief you while I have my Heartless improve you."_

She paced the room; her Heartless' eyes followed her wherever she went. Even Matt, from his vantage point deep within the TARDIS, felt pulled towards her.

" _I have a vision. A vision of a world where everything is perfect. There is no war, no sickness, no hunger, not even the slightest disagreement. There is total peace. But I can only create this peace if everyone agrees to my terms...Ms. Finklestein?"_

A ripple appeared in Jack's bubble, and a woman almost matching his thinness lumbered out. She was bald, and her charcoal skin was coated in stitches. She greeted Jack with a flaming glare.

"Sally-" Was all the pumpkin king could manage before a beam of orange light was ripped from his chest.

" _This is what you get for leaving me, Jack,"_ Sally snarled, unblinking as the light sprayed into her face.  
" _Are you going to do it again?"_

"No…" Jack gasped, his bones and his suit exchanging colors, and his eye sockets gaining a bloody glow.  
"No... _Never again…"_

The bubble around them vanished.

 _What's this? What's this?_

 _But you must believe when I tell you this. It's as real as my skull, and it does exist!_

 _Eureka! This year, Christmas will be OURS!_

 _Only dust and a plaque, that reads, Here Lies Poor Old Jack._

Matt's head throbbed, not only from the memories squeezing into his mind, but from the grating choir of " _No,"_ that came from Jack's former allies as he stood by the Mistress.

" _The trouble with my vision,"_ the Mistress carried on, her voice curing Matt's migraine.  
" _Is that pesky little thing known as free will. Now, I don't blame any of you for valuing free will. You have all been conditioned your entire lives to believe that free will is a good thing. Something to hold onto. To fight for. To die for...General Shang?"_

A colossus of a man dropped into Mulan's bubble, which had to expand to fit him. He was clad in black armor lined with red, and a helmet that allowed only his glowing eyes to escape.

Before Mulan or any of her allies could react to his appearance, his broadsword was buried in her chest, orbited by a torrent of green light.

Mulan looked up into her friend's face, her freezing eyes filled not with contempt or grief, but only with bitter disappointment.

" _Chin up, Mulan,"_ Shang ordered. " _Think of it as a promotion."_

Mulan's skin and armor blackened and grew to match Shang's. Her helmet came to shroud her face, and deafened her to the outraged cries of her allies.

 _When will my reflection show who I am inside?_

 _How 'bout a girl who's got a brain, and always speaks her mind?_

 _I did it to save my father!_

 _You trusted Ping. Why should Mulan be any different?_

 _We're coming, Matthew._

Matt dug his claws into the arms of his seat. He forced himself to see nothing for a while, straining to be captivated only by his own eyelids. When Strange's echo silenced, he returned to the console room.

Mulan and Shang now stood in attention at the Mistress' side, each with one hand gripping the handle of a sheathed sword.

Amidst the pale, sweating, berating faces of the imprisoned ingrates, Matt noticed a unique silence from the swordsman with the ridiculous weapon. Cloud Strife knelt in his bubble, fixated on the Heartless with an anxious look, but a different kind of anxiety than that of his comrades.

To Matt, he seemed hopeful. Hopeful that he was the next one up. Matt hoped he wouldn't be; he wanted to enjoy that face just a little while longer.

He looked to Stitch, who cried from a mixture of his eyes being pried open and the sights of the fates of his new friends.

Despite his pity, Matt thought it was the most appropriate punishment.

The Mistress continued.

" _But such is the compromise of every world; peace or free will. And every time, people like you, the so-called heroes and protectors, choose free will. But so long as there is free will, there will always be someone who uses it against peace. And all it takes is one...Captain Picard?"_

Riker's fists leaped up at the name, just in time to catch a mechanical arm diving into his bubble.

Matt homed in on Riker's eyes as Picard climbed in to meet his subordinate. They burned with a furious hope; a naive belief that his fearless captain would be saved, as he had been countless times before, by the friendships forged between himself and his crew.

Picard stepped forward, breaking Riker's hold and ripping a golden light from his chest.

Riker's face froze, chilled by the betrayal of both his friend and of the universe's comforting predictability.

" _You've always been a disappointment, William,"_ Picard spat. " _So afraid of change. Always shrouding fear and complacency under a guise of loyalty and dedication. And once again, I am forced to make the hard decisions for you."_

Riker said nothing. He barely blinked as black metal crawled throughout his body from his chest.

Data was similarly silent. He lowered his head, not wanting to watch but knowing that he must.

Worf, however, deafened the room.

"Fight it, Commander! You have never given in before! I know you are strong enough!"

The half-mechanized Riker did not move.

 _Some days you get the bear, and some days the bear gets you._

 _What's a knockout like you doing in a computer-generated gin joint like this?_

 _Maybe if we felt any human loss as keenly as we felt one of those close to us, human history would be far less bloody._

 _Fate. It protects fools, little children, and ships named_ Enterprise.

" _My apologies, Captain. I swear I will never again let you or our Mistress down."_

Two mechanized Starfleet officers stood in front of the Mistress.

" _We shall see to it,"_ Picard growled.

" _So,"_ the Mistress carried on. " _My perfect world requires a hive mind. But to sustain such a world and a society requires a unique kind of magic. A kind which can only be performed with a very special form of energy. Energy which you can find in anyone, but it is more potent in some more than others. Hence why I extend this rare opportunity to you...Commander Lightyear?"_

A demon in black armor rose into Woody's bubble, which widened to accommodate its pointed back-mounted wings, each twice the size of their owner.

The Sheriff fell on his back at the Heartless' appearance, but immediately picked himself up and drew his pistol.

" _She's right, Woody,"_ the demon yelled. " _I've never felt better!"_

For a moment, Woody gaped at the Heartless lumbering towards him. Then he lowered his head, the rim of his hat shadowing his eyes, and aimed his pistol.

"You're not Buzz,"

He fired, and so did the Heartless.

A bullet sank into the Heartless' black forehead.

A thin streak of red burst from Woody's back.

 _That wasn't flyin'! That was just...Fallin' with style!_

 _From now on, you'd better take good care of your 'toys.' 'Cause if you don't, I'll find out, Dr. Phillips. I. See. Everything._

 _Jessie, come with me. Andes-Rume has a place for all of us, I know it...And ain't that what Emily would want for you?_

 _And when it does all end, I'll have ol' Buzz Lightyear to keep me company. For infinity and beyond._

Matt leaned back, reveling in the perfect melody which the Sheriff's devastated companions performed for him.

This transformation, he thought, just might be his favorite yet.

As he darkened, the Sheriff directed his sweating glare at the Mistress, throwing as much contempt as he could at her while he still had the will. Then his glare bloomed into a grin burning with sharp teeth. His skin hardened, gaining a scaly texture. An appendage crawled out of his back; a string-thin tail that ended in a noose, hovering above his hat.

" _Now that's better,"_ Woody cackled as his bubble was lowered to the floor before setting him free.  
" _This posse just didn't feel right without an Old Western touch!"_

" _In conclusion,"_ the Mistress stepped forward, raising her arms beside Woody and Buzz in a parental gesture.  
" _Your mission is to recruit Heartless for my new world. Once I have enough to efficiently run a society, we can begin our new life together."_

"More like a prison sentence!" Judy retorted.

"Indeed," Data added. "Your recruitment methods completely ignore all living beings' right to choice."

"And I think we'd all rather be the best people we can be on our own," Brown shouted. "Not some mindless, soulless puppets!"

" _I know the thought of change frightens you, but give it a chance and you will see."_ The Mistress raised her scepter, smiling her glorious smile.  
" _You will all see."_

Matt leaned in, smiling with his Mistress as he basked in the hopelessness reeking off of each of the prisoners.

A ghostly hand seized his face.

" _Strange!"_ he roared.

He swatted at the hand, but only felt a cold breeze. He darted up from his chair, but Strange followed him, glued to him.

" _I'll kill you, Strange!"_

Between the fingers, Matt found a sliver of a smirk, and then the apparition was gone.

Matt returned instantly to the console room, and found the Mistress narrowly avoiding something charging at her from a sizzling and fleeting portal.

A car. A white car outfitted with a collection of ridiculous machinery. Its side bore an image of an anxious cartoon ghost restrained by a red slash.

Matt knew who this was; not from his own memories, but from Ash's and Dante's.

The Ecto-1 turned and screeched to a halt under the prisoners' bubbles, and the dozen passengers riding on its exterior leaped into action.

Some of them Matt knew from Bruce's memories.

Laying and grinning on the hood, the green-skinned shapeshifter called Beast Boy.

Knelt on the roof, the cloaked sorceress known as Raven.

Floating above her, smirking as her hands glowed green, the vibrant, orange alien princess; Starfire.

Drawing a batarang from her belt, the red-haired detective donning Bruce's former colors; Batgirl.

Back-to-back with her, the black-haired, black-costumed former sidekick, wielding dual batons just as Matt had before; Nightwing.

Together, they were the Teen Titans.

The rest Matt knew personally from his lesser days.

Glaring from behind a glowing crimson visor, Cyclops.

Flashing her typical cocky smile from under her white hair, Rogue.

Kneeling beside Raven with a grin that shone in the shadows, the blue-skinned, pointed-tailed Nightcrawler.

Cracking his knuckles, the metal-skinned and aptly-named Colossus.

Giving the Mistress a look equal in anger and curiosity, the hulking, blue-furred Beast.

Hovering above even the prisoners' bubbles, her fingers flexing with lightning, Storm.

Heading the group, a stubbled face exploding with fury behind six blades ripping from his knuckles, Wolverine.

Matt knew them as the X-Men, and he had hoped that he would only see them again on their knees before the Mistress.

The Ghostbusters stepped out of the Ecto-1 and stood beside Wolverine, proton packs at the ready.

" _Insolent, cretinous meddlers,"_ the Mistress spat, firing a torrent of smoke from her scepter.

It met a quartet of red-and-blue proton beams; the projectiles created a colorful airborne flame.

"You know what, fellas?!" Venkman yelled over the screeching flame, taking a gloved hand from his proton blaster to shield his eyes.  
"I'm thinkin' we should just rebrand to Insolent Cretinous Meddlers! Seems more popular with most otherworldly tyrants! We could call it I.C.M. for short!"

"You guys don't need a new name," Raven said, levitating above the Ecto-1 as her eyes and tutting fingers glowed black.  
"You need a new logo...Azarath! Metrion! _Zinthos!"_ She sliced the air above her with her glowing hands, slicing Violet's bubbles open like fruit, but leaving their prisoners unharmed.

Cloud and Judy stuck their landings.

Aladdin rolled out his carpet during his descent, stopping and hovering alongside Raven.

Brown, Worf, and Data were respectively caught by Batgirl, Beast, and Colossus.

"You are unusually large for an android," Data said with a tilt of his head as he was set down at the Ecto-1's rear.

"Unusually charismatic, as well," Colossus added. "Apparently,"

Nightcrawler vanished in a cloud of blue smoke. Another cloud appeared within the cluster of Experiments.

" _Nala queesta!"_ 149 shouted.

Nightcrawler reached out, taking Stitch carefully but firmly under the arms.

"I've got you, mein freund!"

"Oh, thank you, scary smokey man!"

Stitch wiggled, loosening his his cousins' grip as Nightcrawler pulled him free and vaulted over 150.

" _Hey!"_ 624 yelled, leaping after them. " _Give him back!"_ She caught hold of Nightcrawler's ankle, vanishing with him and Stitch in another burst of smoke.

"Thanks for the save," Cloud said, landing beside Wolverine.

"Don't thank us yet, bub," the rugged mutant growled. "Any tips on how to get our friends back?"

"Get the scepter," Cloud pulled his sword from his back. "Get one of them through the chest with it and they're back to normal."

"You catch that, nightstick?"

"Loud and clear, shortstuff!" Nightwing pointed a baton at the Mistress, whose beam continued to feud with that of the Ghostbusters.  
"Titans, _go!"_

The Titans and the X-Men charged.

The Mistress lifted a hand as her eyes emitted a fiery glimmer.

The walls reddened with a hellish horde of eyes, and the surrounding darkness split into the bodies of all of the Mistress' Heartless.

Matt took one last look around the console room, where the Ecto-1 and its passengers were surrounded by Heartless, and then opened his eyes.

" _Chell!"_ He stood up. " _Get me up there!"_

Seconds later, the air in front of him rippled.

Matt looked up at the Genie, who grinned down at him with his sky-filling mouth. The grin was weak, but it scorched Matt like the desert sun.

In his mind, he was punching the Genie with more strength than the giant entity could ever hope to conjure. But Matt knew he had neither the time nor the power.

Yet.

Still burning, he marched forward. The barren room dissolved into chaos around him.

He had entered as if through the TARDIS doors, with the Ecto-1 and the intruders surrounding it ahead of it. Their backs faced him, and the closest was Worf, who exchanged fire with Ash Williams.

"I shall see you punished for what you have done to my comrades!" the Klingon roared.

" _Try it, shitface!"_ Ash cackled over the booming of his shotgun-hand.

Worf evaded, stepping closer into Matt's reach.

Matt reached out, about to gift the Mistress' army with the strength and stamina of a Klingon warrior.

"Hold yer horses, hornhead!"

A blue-gloved fist seized his arm, nearly cutting him with its blade-like claws.

" _Logan!"_ Matt caught Wolverine's other diving arm. " _Punctual as ever."_

"Whatever they've done to ya, ya still smell the same!" Logan's forehead struck Matt's nose. It hurt, but Matt tightened his fist.  
"Spotted ya the second ya warped in."

" _We shouldn't fight, Logan."_ Matt pulled, dragging Logan to the nearest wall. The mutant resisted, but Matt kept him at bay with a knee to the gut.  
" _Spider-Man and I are better with Mistress. We all are, and you could be, too. That ideal world that Xavier dangles in front of you; the Mistress can make it real. But she needs you to do it, Logan._ We _need you."_

He pushed Logan's arm away, then reached for his heart. He could already feel it, _hear_ it. It was much louder than he thought it would be. Probably, he thought, louder than Logan thought, as well.

Then Matt was on the ground, and Logan's claws chilled his face.

"I'd love to believe that, red, but lookin' at you, I can tell there ain't much real 'bout your Mistress' world."

Logan lifted Matt by his collar. The X-Man was fearsome, but Matt invited any violence that he wished on him; he could not truly hurt him without the scepter.

With that thought, Matt shut his eyes, stealing a series of glimpses around the console room.

Officer Wilde pounced on Judy, pinning her with his front paws, forcing her to keep his looming, salivating jaws at bay with her feet. The rabbit's eyes were filled with tearful hope, but the fox's were an unrecognizing red.

Aladdin had taken to the air on his carpet, pursued by Marty McFly and Buzz Lightyear.

He saw the Ghostbusters still firing at the Mistress, now aided by an arc of lightning from Storm and a beam of sputtering green energy from Starfire. With a consistent wave of her scepter, the Mistress collected each projectile into a pulsating cloud above her.

For a while, Matt felt at ease.

A cloud of smoke puffed beside the Mistress, and a pair of three-fingered hands seized her scepter.

" _No!"_

"Yes!" Nightcrawler and Stitch chimed.

The X-Man kicked 624 off of his leg just before she could sink her teeth into it.

Stitch leaped off of Nightcrawler, clamping his jaws around the Mistress' arm.

The Mistress screamed, 624 tackled Stitch to the floor, and Nightcrawler vanished with the scepter.

Matt blinked; Logan had him against the wall. He growled in an animalistic manner befitting of his namesake. With a double-booted kick to the gut, Matt put some distance between himself and Wolverine.

He seized the moment and searched the room again, his eyes adhering to Nightcrawler.

The teleporting mutant moved like a bullet, puffing from Heartless to Heartless, getting each one in the chest a microsecond after appearing in front of them. As each of Matt's comrades grasped the scepter, desperate to keep the filth out of their bodies, they were whisked to the Ecto-1.

Back to the brutal heat.

Peter.

" _Kurt, you bastard, I'll..._ Never mind. I needed that."

Romanadvoratrelundar.

" _Damn..._ What a drab state we've left the TARDIS in."

Ash.

" _No! No! I need to stay! I need-..._ To get my new partner back, for starters!"

624.

She let out a blood-curdling roar, followed later by, "Ah. Feel good being naga mean."

Lara Croft.

" _No! Get it out! Get it-_ Oh, thank god! After this, I'm taking a _long_ holiday."

Captain Picard.

" _Commander Riker! Get over here and help me..._ Data? Is it really you this time?"

"Of course, Captain." Data helped his friend up, then found himself in a tight embrace. As he reciprocated, the corners of his mouth curved slightly upward.  
"And may I say that I am also glad to see the real you, as well."

"As am I, Data. More than you can imagine."

Matt was sweating; his stomach turned with each reformed Heartless. At first, he thought it was disgust, but he was beginning to worry that it was much more than that.

He returned to Nightcrawler, who swung at Bruce. The Batman rolled out of the scepter's path, then rolled back, his clawed hand reaching for Kurt's heart.

Nightcrawler teleported again, this time going for Jack Skellington, who twirled over the scepter in an uninterrupted dance.

" _Aren't you a remarkable creature?"_ Jack tilted his skull as his body ignited with white fire.  
" _But so miserably wasted."_ He dove for Nightcrawler with an ear-splitting screech, but only passed through a cloud of smoke.

Matt's blood burned; somehow, he knew he was next.

He reached out to catch the scepter, and found his hands gloved by webbing.

"Open wide and take your meds, double-dee!"

Matt nearly looked up to curse Peter, but instead sidestepped out of the oncoming scepter's path.

He felt someone push him from behind; definitely Logan.

Before Matt could scream, the scepter was in his chest.

"Relax, Daredevil." Nightcrawler rested a hand on Matt's shoulder, his yellow eyes filled with undeserved hope.  
"You are home again."

Matt wrestled with the scepter, but it was stuck in him. He reached for Nightcrawler, aiming to dig his claws into his neck and rip his head off, but the mutant backed away.

Matt felt like he was being cremated. His veins and his muscles clenched as he was suffocated by all the thoughts that the Mistress had saved him from.

 _There are other ways to see._

 _The people you murder deserve another chance, Frank. And if you don't get that, then there's something broken in you that you can't fix._

 _We all need men and women who are willing to take the fight themselves. The kind of people who risk their lives so that we can walk safe at night in our own neighborhoods. New York needs these people. We need heroes._

Nightcrawler's face and the war-torn console room blurred. Soon, Matt was left with nothing but the grating sound of clanging metal, the putrid smell of gunsmoke, and the bitter taste of sweat.

And Matt was thankful for it.

 **V**

"Dr. Emmett Brown."

"Captain Picard."

"Lieutenant-Commander Data."

"Officer Judy Hopps."

"Romanadvoratrelundar, or Romana, if you'd prefer."

"Cloud Strife."

"Batgirl."

"Name's Rogue. We all best buds now?"

"It would appear so," Romana denoted.

"Swell!"

Doc stood in a circle back-to-back with his new companions. Though he felt reasonably safe between a cowled vigilante and a soldier wielding a sword as big as him, he knew he would never feel at peace until he had Marty back.

The chaos around him was suffocating, but he could make out pieces of it.

Beast Boy, in the form of a humongous green elephant, aimed to stomp on an acrobatic horned swordsman.

Nightwing was ensnared around the throat by Woody's new stringy tail.

Beast was entangled in the scorpion tail-like scarf of the snickering Doctor.

Stitch and his recently de-Heartlessed pink-furred friend hopped on the heads of their corrupted brethren.

But to Doc, it was all the same; Heartless vs. non-Heartless. It was all of immense concern to him, of course, but the first thing that stood out to him at each turn was that Marty wasn't there.

Finally, he stopped looking around and instead looked up.

He found Aladdin on his carpet soaring above the battle. Close behind him was the winged Heartless alongside another riding a flying board.

It was Marty. He only barely resembled the undyingly loyal friend Doc had come to know, and yet it was unmistakable.

Now he only needed that scepter.

A high-pitched, animalistic shriek seized Doc's attention. He turned and found what appeared to be a black-furred hybrid of a bat and a human. It kicked at a man donning an outlandish red-and-blue costume, who clutched the Man-Bat's ankle in one hand and Maleficent's scepter in the other.

Despite the crisis at hand, Doc felt a flutter in his heart with each new creature he discovered.

"Not a chance, Kirk!" Spider-Man declared. "I've danced this dance often enough with one Adrian Toomes! But I gotta say, he's nowhere near as handsome a dance partner as you!"  
He pulled on the Heartless' leg, ascending and driving the scepter into its chest. "Let there be light!"

And there was.

Doc shielded his eyes, and when he looked again, Spider-Man's arms were around the neck of a more benevolent-seeming creature with light brown fur.

"Now, what say we pay a visit to your ol' pal, Bruce?"

The Man-Bat gave an affirmative growl, then dove into the battle.

Doc returned his gaze to the ground around him, and found his surrounding companions each engaged in their own duels.

Picard was grappled by a fuming Riker.

Data fired at a woman with the legs of a raptor, who moved closer with each swiftly evaded shot.

Judy once again had to pry away the jaws of her roaring beast of a partner.

Romana faced off with a long-haired Heartless; she appeared to be facing her own shadow. They did not move, but their eyes were dark and intense. Doc could tell they were battling, but in a manner he supposed was beyond his comprehension.

Cloud pointed his sword at a snarling wolf whose black fur was adorned with crimson patterns. The swordsman's eyes were heavy; something about the wolf frightened him beyond any protection his incredible sword could offer.

Batgirl caught the fist of what appeared to be a more hulking and twisted reflection of herself. As she threw its arm back, Doc heard her plead, "Bruce!"

Rogue had clasped Mulan's blade between her gloved palms, bending backwards to do so.

"Whew. Nearly broke a sweat there,"

" _Perhaps I won't improve you,"_ Mulan snarled, drawing her blade back with sinister speed. Rogue clenched her teeth and her fists, which dripped blood.  
" _Perhaps I'll simply kill you."_

Doc reached into his coat. He knew that he wasn't as good a shot as Marty, but he comforted himself with words from Marty himself.

 _If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything._

" _Great Scott!"_

A sarcastic shout deafened Doc as he was seized by the throat.

" _It's the Doc!"_ Marty laughed as he zipped through the air, keeping the scientist in front of him.  
" _Just in time for his latest screw-up!"_

From a distance, Doc did not think that this Heartless had fully resembled Marty; it was the clothes and the hoverboard that tipped him off more than the face or the posture. But now that it was right in front of him, laughing in his face as it shoved him around the air, it was the one and only Marty McFly. His skin was like a coal sculpture and his eyes seemed to be filled with blood, but it was Marty just as Doc knew him.

When Doc saw it, he died. He kept breathing and screaming, but he was dead.

"Marty…" he gasped.

" _Relax, Doc! You get a break this time around! You don't have to run around thinking up some scheme to unscrew me! Finally you've screwed me so bad that I'm stuck in it for good!"_

Marty dove, pinning Doc against the TARDIS console.

" _I'm in a hole too deep for you to get me out,"_ he whispered. " _So now you can just jump in and join me."_

" _Got it!"_

"Hey!"

Marty and Doc looked. Behind Marty, they saw Dante in mid-jump, swiping the scepter away from Spider-Man and Man-Bat, and landing on one knee in front of the Mistress.

She continued shielded the Ghostbusters' persistent proton beams, which now came from four directions. Each was paired with a protector; Ray with Storm, Venkman with Starfire, Egon with Beast, and Winston with Cyclops.

The Mistress turned to the bowing Dante, continuing her defense all the while.

" _For you, my Mistress. And let me apologize on all our behalves for this mess."_

" _Do not fret, my dear Dante…"_ Maleficent ran her fingers through the hair between Dante's horns before accepting the scepter.  
" _There are obstacles along every road, but nothing will prevent us from reaching our destination."_

Doc was fixated on the orb at the scepter's top. His ears were filled with a choir of weeping. There were voices of all ages and species, but one managed to stand out to him. He had heard it joke, sing, and proclaim, "this is heavy," enough times to know.

For the first time in his life, Doc did not think. He simply reached into his jacket, drew his revolver, and fired.

" _NO!"_ Marty cried, shoving Doc's arm away.

They both looked back to Maleficent.

The glass orb on her scepter was gone. In its place was a roaring vortex spitting light of every color.

The crying became screaming, and it grew from an echo a deafening wind.

The Heartless screamed, too. They screamed as if they hoped it would kill everyone in the room.

" _What did you do?!"_ Marty shook Doc, who barely moved.

The scientist felt cold. He felt sweat coating him, and his heart was like a volcano preparing for eruption. He felt like he should be dead, but refused to die until he was absolutely certain that Marty was safe.

" _What did you do?! What did you do?! What did…"_

The shouting stopped, and the shaking became squeezing.

Doc squeezed back.

He opened his eyes; he could not see Marty as they embraced. But he could feel him, and it really was him.

"Doc…" Marty sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

Doc exhaled, and then he sobbed, too.

"So am I, Marty. So am I."

 **VI**

Cloud's Buster Sword was gone from his hand and his mind. If anyone were to steal it from the ground, he would not care.

The only care and thought that encompassed his mind was that he had Nanaki back, and he hugged him as tightly as he could to keep that thought cemented in his mind.

He shut his eyes, where the Heartless Nanaki waited for him with its icy eyes. But Cloud was not moved by it.

It was only a dream now.

Cloud opened his eyes. The TARDIS had changed. It had shrunk, squishing the Ecto-1 against the console, but it had increased tenfold in color and in beauty.

The room lit up to reveal a scarlet carpet and wooden walls, which were adorned with stained glass windows. Though they were only colorful collages, they filled Cloud with a fluttering warmth.

He looked around; everyone was doing just what he and Nanaki were doing.

Captain Picard's crew shared a group hug. Worf seemed conflicted; discomforted by the sentiment, but thankful to have his friends back.

Picard invited in one of the former Heartless. Cloud saw that she no longer had the legs of a raptor; only white metal boots that bounced as she walked.

A man and a woman were wrapped in the enormous arms of a towering brown-haired creature. It filled the room with its joyous roars.

Three of the former Heartless huddled together. Cloud recognized them from his first Heartless encounter. Now they were only a trio of exhausted adventurers.

The Incredibles clung to one another, their uniforms merging into a single crimson cloud. Their faces were filled with the most ecstatic smiles and the most incessant tears.

Stitch and his cousins rolled about in each other's many arms. Cheeks rubbed together, noses touched, and tongues went into nostrils.

Cloud was too relieved to be disgusted. If anything, the sight of Stitch giggling as Angel's tongue rooted through his sinus only warmed Cloud further.

Woody and Buzz embraced, then beckoned Mulan, Shang, Judy, Nick, Jack, and Sally to join them. Jack knelt down, wrapped his long arms around the group, and picked them up. They were alarmed for all of a second, and then devolved into laughter.

Nightwing and Batgirl hugged a tall man donning a costume similar to Batgirl's. He hugged them back in the tight but delicate way which Cloud had seen between several parents and children in both Midgar and Edge.

The X-Men huddled excitedly around their reformed friends, who included two red-costumed men and, to Cloud's bewilderment and delight, a reptilian beast in a lab coat.

But the tender moment was short-lived; Maleficent rose above the console, casting a shadow over her former and would-be Heartless.

" _Don't think your problems so easily overcome."_

 **VII**

Aladdin acted fast, sprinting to Maleficent and showing her the end of his scimitar.

He was not alone; as he drew his weapon, a silver broadsword, a sawed-off shotgun, a blade of buzzing green light, and four proton blasters joined his scimitar.

"Bring it on, baby." Dante said.

Aladdin would have joined him in his banter, but his mind was smothered by an excruciating question.

Where was the Genie?

He had felt crushingly excluded as his friends reunited with their restored loved ones. It was not that he was not relieved that the Heartless had been rescued, but he was more worried that Maleficent had found a way to kill the Genie.

Or worse.

"If I may add, Maleficent," the Doctor began, strolling in front of Aladdin, Dante, Luke, Ash, and the Ghostbusters. He took a white paper bag from his pocket and popped one of its colorful, sugary contents into his mouth.  
"Though we are all quite upset at your manipulation of us, the TARDIS is _particularly_ upset." Keeping his eyes on the glaring Maleficent, he offered the bag to Ash, who took from it with his flesh hand.  
"But there's only one in here more particularly upset than her."

The Doctor grinned, and when Maleficent's yellow eyes narrowed, his grin widened.

Aladdin wondered for only a second about what he meant, and then his heart sprinted with hope.

Then his eyes wandered to the console behind Maleficent; he could've sworn that the undulating translucent pillar in its center had been shorter a moment ago.

Maleficent raised her hands.

The top half of the pillar bounced into the shape of a broad-shouldered man wielding a club.

"And the Genie _knocks it outta the park!"_

Aladdin ducked as the room was shaken by a mighty _whack!_ He looked back; Maleficent careened over the heads of her enemies, then crashed out the TARDIS door, which closed with a firm and satisfied slam.

Aladdin returned to the console, and found his friend in all his big, blue, bearded glory.

"Woah, _man,_ " the Genie shouted, stretching his long, muscular arms out, nearly touching the walls on either side of him.  
"Never thought I'd miss the teeny-tiny inside of that ol' lamp!"

The next minute was a blur. Aladdin found himself in the Genie's arms, feeling as though he were wrapped in a cloud.

He had rehearsed this moment constantly in his mind. It hadn't left him since he had watched the Heartless smother the Genie from behind Violet's rolling force field.

It took him a while to realize that it wasn't a daydream anymore.

"Sorry I couldn't save you before, Gene."

"Oh, Al," the Genie said softly with a sniff. "I knew you'd do it."

The moment lasted for ages, and yet it still felt too soon when the TARDIS began shaking.

 **VIII**

Out of everyone there, even those he had shared a hive mind with for the past several days, the Doctor knew his TARDIS best of all.

In seven (ish) centuries of travel with her, he had come to know every anxious beep, agitated whirr, and frustrated groan and what they each meant. So when the vibrations shook the console room and all of its passengers, the Doctor knew that it was not the TARDIS.

"Outside," he declared, holding his hat and running to the doors.

Romana was right behind him, then Luke, then Dante, Ash, Batman, and soon everyone stood between the TARDIS and the Delorean in the ruined streets of Midgar.

Ahead of them were six pillars of green flame. Out of each crawled a figure who was regrettably familiar to the Doctor and his fellow former Heartless.

"Whyyyyyyyyy," Zim shrieked. "Why did you put us back in these _disgusting_ bodies?!"

"We were happy," Boba Fett snarled. "Actually _happy!_ Why can't people like you just let people like us be happy?!"

"How horrifically selfish of you," the Master said as if he had just discovered that his pet had died.  
"If you don't want our Mistress' gifts, then none of us can enjoy them. Is that it?"

"Typical," Vergil spat. "Typical, close-minded, _stupid_ mortals!"

"Indeed," Scarecrow added. "Panicking at any sign of change or evolution."

"Don't think for a second that we won't make you pay for that," the Green Goblin growled.

"This time," Joker snickered. "You won't be getting the last laugh."

The city went cold as it was darkened by shadow.

The TARDIS' passengers looked up, discovering what seemed to be a black mountain growing high above even the tallest building. The mountain turned, and the air became scorching.

The heroes looked up at the blazing, sky-filling jaws of a colossal dragon.

" _NOW SHALL YOU DEAL WITH ALL THE POWERS OF HELL!"_

 _ **FANTASY,**_ **introducing** _ **Aladdin, The Nightmare Before Christmas, Toy Story, Mulan, The Incredibles, Zootopia,**_ **and** _ **Final Fantasy VII**_

 **Season 1, Episode 7**

 **NEXT TIME ON** _ **JUSTICE LEAGUE INFINITE!**_

 **EVERYONE VERSUS MALEFICENT IN THE SEASON FINALE!**


	9. S1E8: Heartless

**Season 1, Episode 8:**

 _ **Heartless**_

 **I**

"Can I just say?!" Venkman shouted at the dragon as its flaming breath brought sweat down his face like wax.  
"I think you should've opened with this!"

" _Get back in the TARDIS!"_ The guy in the tripping-hazard rainbow scarf ordered.

He didn't have to tell Venkman twice.

The Ghostbuster didn't like to admit when he was scared, not just because it was embarrassing but also because it was unprofessional. But as he squeezed through the crowd between the big guy in red spandex and the tall, dapper skeleton, he had to admit that he was regretting volunteering to drive through that portal.

He was so scared, in fact, that he completely glossed over the discovery that the fancy room he had just been was stuffed inside a tiny blue phone booth.

"The Delorean!" He heard the crazy-haired scientist and his sidekick shout.

"I got it," Raven muttered as she held a darkly glowing hand towards the tricked-out car on the decayed street.

Venkman glanced over his shoulder; he saw the car drop through a fleeting black hole in the ground, only moments ahead of the dragon's falling foot.

When Venkman had shimmied his way into the tiny-but-actually-huge phone booth, he found the Delorean parked at the opposite side of the console from the Ecto-1.

"Can we clear all this up, please?!" The man in the scarf shouted. "This is the console room, not a parking garage! There are rooms aplenty throughout for this sort of thing!"

"Alright, alright." Raven grunted, sending each of the two vehicles away in their own black holes.  
"You try to help out…"

"I hope you didn't dent her," Venkman said, hoping to calm his nerves. "We haven't renewed the insurance yet."

"Can we maybe forget about the valeting part of my job for a while?!" Raven snapped at him. "And go back to the world-saving part?!"

Venkman held his hands up and nodded; he probably deserved that.

"We need a plan." The scarf guy took to the console, pressing hurriedly and meticulously at the arrangements of buttons.

Venkman had no idea what they did; Egon might.

He turned to his friend, who had that face when he was, as he put it, terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought. Specifically, his eyes were wider than usual and his breathing was audible.

That's how Venkman knew this one would be a doozy.

The room filled with a mechanical groaning.

"Where are you taking us, Doctor?" A long-haired woman in an official-looking garb interrogated. Her tone and attire screamed 'politician' at Venkman.

"Away from _her,_ Leia," the Doctor answered, turning away from the controls to address the crowd filling his ship.  
"We need to strategize."

"It's a giant monster," Dante retorted with a shrug. "I'm pretty sure that's the specialty of everyone here-"

"Speak for yourself," the kid who had called for the Delorean interjected.

"Yeah, I second that," a dirty, stubbled man added, raising his hand. He looked like a slacking graduate student who had gone spelunking in his only set of clothes.  
"I've fought my share of ancient monsters, but dragons are a whole 'nother sport!"

A woman in a ripped leather jacket and an older man in a fedora stood beside him. They both sent a stern look out to the crowd, as if to say, _I'm with this guy._

In their defense, Venkman wouldn't bet on them over the guy with the giant sword or the big, hairy sasquatch.

"Well, Mart n' Nate." Dante turned and pointed to them like a game show host selecting an audience member.  
"It's the sport you're playing now, so you'd better batter up! Look; I've taken down big bads before, and so have most of you. All we have to do is work together and cut her down."

"It won't be that simple," the big, scary guy in the bat getup stood beside the Doctor.  
"The Doctor's right; we can't waste time hitting her until she falls. We need a final, _decisive_ means of stopping her _now!"_

Venkman had been rocking anxiously on his boots, waiting for the best time to add his signature wit to the discussion. He felt that this was the ideal opportunity.

"I'm all for it," he wavered forth with a shrug. "Cut the crap and just put the giant lizard down. No offense." He held a hand out to the reptilian monster in the lab coat within the crowd.

Its red eyes narrowed at him.

This was something else which Venkman's mortified mind glossed over.

"So what have we got, boys?"

The Doctor and the Batman's heads lowered; Venkman had seen Ray and Egon do exactly the same thing whenever they needed to rack their brains for an especially brilliant solution.

Just as Venkman was about to make a crack about having all the time in the multiverse, the TARDIS rocked hard enough to knock all of its passengers off their feet.

" _Woah!"_ the Genie yelled. "Didn't think we'd be getting any turbulence in the time vortex!"

"That wasn't turbulence," the Doctor muttered, heaving himself up with the edge of the console.  
"Romana! Could you pull up the scanner, please?"

"My hand was on the switch just as you were asking, Doctor," a blonde woman, dressed in a blue uniform like something from a private school, said from the other side of the console.

"Oh, splendid."

The wall furthest from Venkman whirred, and then a section of it lifted to reveal a screen that was more like a window.

It was difficult to discern exactly what was out there, what with the billboard-sized claws clamped around it, and any remaining view being blocked by a scorching green eye.

Venkman had risen to his knees by then, but stopped moving when he saw it.

Now he was also terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought.

 **II**

It wasn't possible. It simply wasn't possible.

The Doctor's mind insisted on it, but after the fifth or sixth repetition, he realized that he was well and truly stuck with the dragon clutching his TARDIS as it careened through the time vortex.

He decided, then, to accept it.

He stood up, and at the moment he was upright, an idea burst into his mind as powerfully as Maleficent had seized the TARDIS.

"Time ram," he muttered.

"What?" Batman demanded, getting up beside him.

"We could time ram her!" The Doctor took the Batman by the shoulders, grinning and waiting patiently for him to make the same realization.  
When he didn't after one second, the Doctor turned to the others.  
"If we strike Maleficent with the TARDIS _exactly_ as it dematerialises, there would be a shockwave of temporal energy strong enough to destroy _any_ universe-traversing monstrosity…" His voice lowered as he recalled one crucial detail; one which he had overlooked in his terror and excitement.

"Ya good, doc?" Ash asked. "Leave the stove on or something?"

"The only problem is that a full time ram would require at least _two_ time vehicles…" The Doctor removed his hat and ruffled his curly hair.  
"Both dematerializing at the same point at the same time."

"Doctor?"

"I suppose we could track down the Master's TARDIS to wherever Romana and I left it."

"Doctor?"

"If we were _truly_ desperate, I may even attempt to summon one of my past or future incarnations. Perhaps that one who rescued us some time back; the young blonde fellow with the celery on his jacket. What say you, Romana?"

" _Doctor!"_

"Yes, what, spit it out, Brown!" The Doctor snapped.

"My time machine," Brown began, stepping up to him. "Would that be enough?"

The Doctor felt his brain make a pleasant twitch.

" _Yes!"_ He snapped his fingers and ran through the crowd, which dispersed to make way for him. Many of their knees were smacked by his flapping scarf.  
He stopped halfway through.  
"Crude as your machine is-"

"Crude?!"

"Well, a decent enough effort for human technology." The Doctor shrugged. "So long as you and I time it _perfectly,_ then we'd make short work of Maleficent."

"Perfectly, eh?" Han Solo stepped out of the crowd, his hands behind his head, which displayed the cocky smirk which the Doctor assumed was nearly frozen there.  
"You guys seem sure enough, but me personally, I don't mind having a spare ace up my sleeve. There any chance that warping to lightspeed would do just as good as...The thing you're gonna do?"

The Doctor thought for a while.

"Well," Brown piped up. "Assuming the gigawatt discharge was similar-"

" _Yes!"_ The Doctor declared. "Again, if it is synchronized with one or both of mine and Dr. Brown's vehicles."  
He mimicked Solo's smirk. "Ah, yes; your _Falcon._ It's still in here, isn't it? I take that as you volunteering it, then, Captain Solo?"

"If you'll have it, Doctor."

"I would! I-" The Doctor stopped; he had just noticed something which would chew his brain away until he addressed it.  
"Dr. Brown, would you mind repeating that word you said just a moment ago?"

Brown raised an eyebrow at him but soon complied.

"Gigawatt discharge?" He pronounced it like _jig._

The Doctor stared at him for a while, flabbergasted.

"Do you mean _giga_ watt?" Like _gig._

Brown scoffed and shrugged. "Well, I've only ever _read_ the word-"

"I'm sure there'll be ample time for linguistic debate _after_ the Mistress-I mean, Maleficent is dealt with," Riker interjected.

"Yes, I suppose there will be," The Doctor grumbled.

The safety of the universe was always his primary concern, but he would not be forgetting such a grievous mispronunciation so easily.

"Thank you, Commander." Picard rested a hand on his friend's shoulder, then joined the Doctor, Brown, and Solo.  
"Before I volunteer, Doctor, I would like to be ensured of the safety of those aboard the participating vessels."

The Doctor grinned.

"Fear not, my dear Captain Jean-Luc Picard. A time ram can only harm those _outside_ of the involved ships. Think of the TARDIS, the _Falcon,_ and Brown's time machine, then, as tanks."

"That is good to know," Picard nodded. "Then I also volunteer my ship, the _Enterprise,_ for the attack. It is also capable of lightspeed, and I believe we can make contact with it using the facilities here."

The room shook again. Everyone stumbled but kept their footing this time.

"Hey, busters of ghosts?" Dante asked. "Don't suppose you've got some more new friends from back home, do ya?"

"Yeah. Hey, laser eye?" Winston turned to Cyclops. "You think Strange can still see us?"

"He can. I can feel it."

"Then tell 'em to join the party." Dante unsheathed his sword and strode to the TARDIS doors.  
"You guys do what you need to get your time ram ready. Meanwhile, the rest of us will keep our guests entertained."

"The rest of us?" Picard questioned. "Dante, I think we should allow everyone a chance to volunteer."

The demon hunter yanked the TARDIS doors open, revealing the black palm of the dragon and the maddening, multicolored tornado of the roaring, undulating time vortex.

"If you think you're hard enough…" Dante looked over his shoulder at the others, cracking a smirk that put Solo's to shame.  
"Then show 'er what you've got."

With that, he drove his blade into the dragon's scaled flesh and was pulled from the TARDIS with the ferocious hand.

There was a pained roar, but it did not overpower the coinciding, " _WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_

"What he said." Ash approached the doorway, taking his chainsaw from his back and sliding his metal hand into a circular slot at its base. He revved up his chainsaw and leaped out with the roaring blade raised above his head.

The crowd began to pour out of the TARDIS, and soon the dragon's roars and its foes' battle cries harmonized with the boisterous vortex surrounding them.

The Doctor observes those who remained. Romana, Leia, Solo, Dr. Brown, McFly, Picard and his crew, Jones, Croft, and Drake.

"You three aren't going?" Romana turned to the three archaeologists.

"I can't speak for these two." Croft gestured to Jones and Drake on either side of her.  
"But _I'm_ willing to go out, but I'd feel more useful with more than just a 9mm."

"Actually, Lara," Leia approached her. "We have a job for the three of you."

"Anything to do our part," Lara gave her a confident smile.

"As long as it pays good," Drake added.

"Pay's great, Nate. Top-class." Han replied, then turned to the Doctor. "I just wanna know how we'll get out ships outta here."

"Should we call that sorceress back?" Leia suggested.

"Let her concentrate on Maleficent," the Doctor shrugged. "I'll simply _eject_ the rooms you're in once you're prepared."

"In that case, take this." Brown reached into his coat, taking out a two-way radio and tossing it to the Doctor.  
"I'll let you know when we're ready."

"Perfect." The Doctor grinned.

"Alright, I think we've wasted enough time." Han passed Jones, patting him on the shoulder.  
"C'mon, handsome."

He ran down the corridor behind the console, followed by Leia, Marty, Brown, and the archaeologists.

"Meanwhile," the Doctor turned to the console and began his work. "The rest of us will concentrate on communicating with your ship, Captain Jean-Luc Picard."

"Excellent."

The hexagonal console was divided evenly between the two Time Lords and four Starfleet officers.

"I have only one inquiry, Doctor," Data said.

"Let's hear it," the Doctor grinned.

"What do these buttons do?"

 **III**

What a step up from Aperture testing, hitchhiking, dishwashing, and Heartless recruiting!

Even with the infinite, thundering, colorful chasm surrounding her and the dragon the size of a hundred GLaDOS' glaring at her, Chell felt free for the first time in her life.

She dove through the vortex, spending only a moment to marvel at her new friends flying and battling around her.

She fell straight towards Vergil, whose swinging katana had landed in Nanaki's clamping jaws. Chell clenched her fist, filling it with every time GLaDOS had tried to bribe her with cake, and hurled it into the Vergil's jaw.

Next, she found Luke Skywalker, extending his flesh palm to stop the cackling Joker's incessant machine gunfire. She brought her boot back, filling it with every word of praise Maleficent had given her, and launched it into the side of the Joker's skull.

She laughed louder than the Joker. She heard the roaring of the vortex louden around her, and so laughed even louder.

She saw Boba Fett taking aim at Storm, who flew for the dragon's head.

Chell spun, clanging the alloy of a longfall boot against the metal of the bounty hunter's helmet.

She let out another victorious laugh.

Fett reached out and clutched her ankle.

The rush was gone, as if Fett had siphoned it from her.

After a cruel yank, Chell's vision was filled with a glaring _T_ and the barrel of a blaster rifle.

Her right arm shot up of its own accord, getting the blaster out of her face. The gun fired, missing Chell, but sending a harrowing burn over her scalp. Her head burned even more after being struck by the menacing _T._

"Maybe the Mistress thought you were special," Fett snarled, pressing a button on his left arm.  
"But to me, you're just another job."

A rocket shot straight up out of his jetpack, then curved downwards and careened towards Chell.

In a desperate second, she glanced behind her and found the TARDIS, about to spin by her. She fired her portal gun at it twice, opening portals on its southern and eastern walls, and then spun out of the way.

The missile was heading for the TARDIS, and then was returning to its owner.

In the second she looked back at him, Chell saw the glaring _T_ make a satisfying look of surprise.

There was a bang, a thick black cloud, and then Boba Fett was floating through the vortex, the broken _T,_ now an inverted _L,_ emitting a golden glow.

Chell exhaled; the rush was returning to her.

She turned to the dragon's head, which was the size of a yacht from where she was.

Its yellow eyes flashed as if it had picked Chell out specifically, and then its jaws filled with green flame.

 **IV**

The scales were like cracked concrete under Batman's boots.

He crouched as he landed on the dragon's shoulder, then shot upright, brushing his cape aside as he reached for his belt.

He kept his eyes locked on Maleficent's flaming jaw. Sweat crawled between his skin and his cowl.

"Woah!" The Genie, suddenly dressed as a fireman and wielding a hose, flew in front of the dragon's jaws.  
"Dial it back on the Indian food, Mal!" He filled the humongous mouth with water. Steam escaped from between the towering black teeth.

"You're doing it wrong, Gene!" Spider-Man swung around Maleficent's snout; each lap bound her mouth tighter shut with another layer of webbing.  
"Best thing for a spicy curry is a glass of cold milk!"

"Ha! I've always wanted to do a double act!"

As they worked, Dante and Cloud landed on the dragon's snout, raising their swords, ready to plant them in the beast's flesh.

Above them, Storm stirred the air with her arms, cooking up a black cloud frothing with lightning.

"Keep her still, Peter!" Batman pulled a batarang from his belt. He pressed a button at its corner and it began to beep. He held his other palm out, putting Maleficent's left eye between his finger and thumb, and then threw.

None of it would be enough, but it would hurt.

" _Cockroaches."_ Maleficent's voice slithered through Bruce's ears.

The dragon's jaws snapped wide open, breaking Spider-Man's webbing and sending the wall-crawler and the two swordsmen tumbling towards Batman.

Bruce caught his arm, giving him the chance to plant himself on Maleficent's scales.

Cloud and Dante dug their blades into the dragon's flesh, drawing blood and halting their descent.

They watched as the dragon's mouth clamped shut over both the beeping batarang and the Genie, who disappeared with a vehement, " _Holy-!"_

There was a muffled _bang,_ barely audible over the roaring vortex, and then smoke from the dragon's nostrils.

The green flames returned.

"Bruce?"

"Peter."

"Got milk in that belt a' yours?"

"No."

"Hoo, boy."

The two vigilantes leaped, hoping to soar out of the path of the oncoming fire.

"Crap," Cloud grunted as he joined them.

"Hey, miss thunderstorm," Dante called as he jumped. "Give us a boost?"

Storm narrowly avoided the dragon's swiping claws, sacrificing her cloud in the process.

"Of course." She pushed at the air, sending a gust of wind to carry her allies.  
"But never call me miss thunderstorm again."

The wind carried Bruce, Peter, Cloud, and Dante a fair distance, but when they looked back, Maleficent's burning eyes and jaws were still locked on them.

Bruce felt cold; he knew it was impossible to escape, but he also knew that he would feel much colder if he did not at least try.

His mind raced.

It stopped on the image of Alfred.

He looked back once more. Behind the dragon's head, which glowed with green fire like a monstrous jack-o-lantern, he found a familiar sizzling portal.

Bruce's spirits lifted but then dropped as the portal spat out only, from what he could tell from afar, a kid and a skinny man who might be his teacher. Then the man's skin turned green and he grew to an inhumanly muscular size, and Bruce's hope was restored.

" _HULK SMASH!"_

The Hulk struck the back of Maleficent's head, sending an excruciating crack resounding throughout the vortex. The dragon screeched as its head reeled downward, spitting out a torrent of fire, with the Genie tumbling out alongside, downwards into nothing but empty space.

"Augh, boy!" The Genie wiped black saliva from his front. "This is the last prom I go to!"

The kid landed on the dragon's back.

" _SHAZAM!"_

Maleficent was hit by a bolt of lightning. Her limbs contorted as her roars deafened Bruce.

When the lightning dissolved into a cloud of smoke, Bruce could see the familiar red uniform and shining lightning bolt symbol of his friend, Shazam.

"That's some cavalry," Cloud said.

Batman kept his typical glare, but he was encompassed by a soothing, optimistic warmth. It only grew with each traveler from the portal.

A twirling top hat and a flickering cigarette were followed by Zatanna and John Constantine, who stood back to back with a red-caped and mustachioed man and a woman with scarlet hair and coat. Fingers tutted, words were whispered, and the dragon went still in a flash of colors.

The Flash's signature crimson blur orbited the dragon's body, accompanied by another blur, silver and equally quick.

The Blue Beetle and Cyborg encircled Maleficent's head, opening fire as they were aided by a golden-armored woman with wings like a wasp's, and a gray-suited man wielding as many missiles as the deadliest war machine.

The dragon let out a pained roar, which was crushed to a gargle as its throat was sandwiched between two crouched, caped forms; one of them Batman knew as the Martian Manhunter, and the other a metallic yellow accomplice.

Both of the monster's elbows were struck. The left by the mace of the soaring Hawkgirl, and the right by a grenade blast thrown by a soldier with wings like a falcon.

Maleficent's scorching eyes fell victim to the the arrows of the Green Arrow and his similarly hawk-eyed rival.

Her ears were prey to a pair of women in black. One of them a skilled agent wielding electrified batons. The other, to the particular anguish of the dragon's left ear, was the Black Canary.

Even as far as he floated, Batman's ears hurt. He did not want to imagine how Maleficent's ears felt.

At the dragon's chest, two warriors seemed to be trying to dig their way to her heart. One of them Batman recognized as Aquaman, whose trident plunged into the beast's scales. The other was in a perfect black, swiping with claws. Even from a distance, Batman could see his yellow eyes, as piercing as a panther's.

The dragon bared its blackened teeth, projecting all the pain and outrage into them while her body remained bound by the quartet of sorcerers. To her further aggravation, this made her teeth vulnerable to the fists of two soaring women in red-and-blue attire. Batman's eyes followed them; he found Supergirl, beaming as she came back for another blow. Her partner wore a helmet that shaped her blonde hair into a mohawk. Her fists glowed with a marvelous gold.

Batman looked above the dragon, where he found his friend, John Stewart, the Green Lantern, raising his fist into the air, where a glowing green broadsword the size of a train grew into existence. It orbited its conjurer and sent Maleficent's head hurtling to her left, right into the path of a roaring laser beam from the chest of a man in glistening crimson armor.

Maleficent's flaming jaws opened, but were tied shut by the sun-like glow of Wonder Woman's Lasso of Truth. The Amazonian warrior reeled the dragon in like a wild boar, leaving her open for a strike from her chainmail-armored, helmeted companion's hammer. Lightning erupted from the point of impact at Maleficent's jaw, harmonizing with a cry of, " _For Odin! For Asgard!"_

A thin line of burning crimson light traced the length of the dragon's body. Batman looked for its origin and found the triumphant _S_ emblem of his ally and friend, Superman. Halfway down the beam, he found it being refracted off of an equally inspiring symbol; a shield of red, white, and blue with a star at its center. Batman saw its wielder, and though he could not put names to the new faces who had come to assist him, this one man could not be mistaken. Captain America.

The beam shrank away and the Justice Leaguers and Avengers circling Maleficent dispersed.

Above them, the portal fizzled shut as its final tag-team dove through; two specks who Bruce could only make out by their red and blue contrast against the vortex.

" _Is this your grand plan?!"_ Maleficent spat. " _Exhaust your most moderately competent warriors, then send in the locusts?!"_

Bruce heard an electric crackling in his right ear. He recognized it instantly as his cowl's communicator coming alive again.

" _Are you ready, Dr. Choi?"_ A strict, grizzled voice asked.

" _I'm_ always _ready, Dr. Pym."_ A familiar, excited, bouncy tone responded.

With a jittering scream like a high-pitched jackhammer, the specks exploded into giants, one a rusty crimson and the other a watery blue, both rivaling the dragon's size.

"I believe you've _enormously_ underestimated us, Maleficent!" The Atom restrained the lunging dragon from behind in a bear hug.

"Mind the puns, Ryan." Ant-Man pushed Maleficent's head upward, where her flaming breath illuminated the dense air in a magnificent but harmless display.  
"Or there's a colony of fire ants with your name on it."

"Hey," the Genie barked, floating around the three-way struggle in the form of a blue poodle the size of one of the giants' heads.  
"Ya can't have giant men without giant man's giant best friend!" He dropped and clamped his jaws around the dragon's ankle, earning an infuriated, tooth-muffled growl.

"I'd say the odds have been evened out," Spider-Man said.

Bruce felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and found a smile that seemed to think that it was the sun. That smile had often irritated Bruce, but today, it brought him the sweetest relief.

"Glad to have you back, Bruce," Superman said.

"So am I, Clark. More than you know."

 **V**

If it weren't for the thundering vortex of chaos outside and the pressing search for the two spaceships, Jones might have been able to appreciate the soothing ambiance of the TARDIS' carpeted hallways.

Instead, he found himself sprinting to keep up with the space cowboy who could pass of as his own twin.

"One thing I still don't get," Drake began before a short bout of panting.  
"How come these guys look so alike?"

"Actually, yeah," Marty looked between Jones and Solo. "You guys aren't even from the same world. Or time or whatever."

"Maybe Han is Dr. Jones reincarnated," Croft suggested.

"Or you could be twins," Drake added. "And one of you was stolen at birth by a reality-jumping kidnapper."

"It's possible that each reality's human race is made up of rearrangements of the same biological patterns," Doc speculated. "So the same faces would pop up in each-"

" _Does it matter?!"_ Jones snapped. Only after did he realize that Solo had spoke with him. He ignored it and they ran in silence until Marty spoke.

"Woah. That's heavy."

"Here!" Leia declared, turning on her heels and darting into a doorway they were about to pass.

Jones and the others followed her, and surely enough, there it was. Right out of _Buck Rogers._

Its bridge was down. Han ran into it like a kid running home after school.

When it wasn't under the control of the Heartless, Jones found that the _Falcon_ was a majestic sight. He was filled with a rare excitement; the kind of rewarding tickle he felt whenever he got his hands on a coveted artifact.

In front of the ship, as if they came as a pair, was Brown's time machine. Jones had forgotten; it was built out of a car. From the look of it, he thought he would live to see it made in his own time.

"Where's that white car the laser-backpack guys came in?" Marty asked.

"Most likely in another room," Doc said. "That Raven woman likely sent them each to a random room."

"Good thing the Delorean landed here with the _Falcon,"_ Marty added with a smile. "Maybe that was part of her magic."

"Now, Leia," Lara said. "What's this job you have for the three of us?"

"Han and I need someone to man the _Falcon's_ gun," Leia began. She turned to Brown.  
"Dr. Brown, I don't believe your _Delorean_ has any defenses."

"An oversight on my part," the scientist smiled.

Leia glanced behind her, where Han strode down the _Falcon_ 's bridge, his arms full with two firearms like long metal logs.

"Don't worry," he said to Brown. "That's part of the job. One of you's with us, while the other two protect the junker's miracle."

" _I_ thought it was _stylish,"_ Brown grumbled.

"In the 80s, Doc." Marty patted his shoulder. "We're way into the future now."

Croft and Drake each took one of the firearms, balancing them on a shoulder and peering through a scope protruding from the side of the barrel.

"Chewie won them off an old friend in a game of dejarik a few weeks ago." Solo said. "Only tried 'em against a tree so far, but they oughta scare off anyone who gets too close. Anyone you _miss,_ that is."

"I can work with that." Croft brought the weapon down, holding it like a sniper rifle, and gave Solo a conspiring grin.

"You two seem pretty infatuated with your new toys," Jones said. "So I can be your gunman, Captain."

"Well, Han does enjoy his own reflection," Leia smirked at Solo, who rolled his eyes.

"Alright, alright. Get a move on, people! We've got a monster to kill!"

Jones was running again. When he was in the gunman's cockpit, he felt as if he had just awoken there.

Though the exterior was like something from well into Jones' future, he felt some familiarity when he settled inside. The glass dome facing him provided an alienating sensation, but the array of colorful buttons at his disposal did not seem especially different from those of a plane. In fact, he almost expected a snake to slither into his lap.

"Point and shoot. Got it?" Solo slapped a hand on Jones' shoulder.

"Yessir." Jones clutched the wheel in front of him, his fingers hopping anxiously on the triggers.

Ahead, he could only see the others boarding Brown's car, but in his mind's eye, he could already see those godlike jaws lighting up again.

Croft and Drake leaned out the rear windows, already aiming their futuristic weapons with almost childlike excitement. Marty took the wheel with Brown beside him.

Brown said something into his radio.

Seconds later, the room dissolved with a groaning click, and Jones found himself submerged in the chaos.

The colors and shapes folding and undulating forever, simultaneously a cell and a galaxy, was maddening enough. But it was teeming with people and creatures locked in some kind of vicious dance reception.

The _Falcon_ was off, but Jones was frozen. He was back on the island out in the Aegean Sea, tied up with Marion as the Nazis opened the Ark of the Covenant. Only this time, his eyes were open.

Jones clutched the wheel, keeping himself in the ship. He glared at the vortex beyond the glass and the chaos that drowning it, looking at it as he looked at every temple he had ventured into. All he had to do was narrow his gaze towards the only thing that really mattered.

The dragon.

Its claws kept away two giant men in what looked like red and blue spacesuits. At its chest, the Genie donned green shorts and boxing gloves, striking the scaled flesh with arms as quick as jackhammers.

Jones didn't look at them. Only the dragon.

The _Falcon_ soared at it. Its flaming jaws came to fill the glass.

Jones' body was an icicle. His method of ignoring everything except Maleficent was beyond successful; there was nothing anywhere in any universe except for himself and the dragon.

Then there was nothing but his fingers on the triggers.

There was a hammering sound outside, and then the green inferno was drowned out by a blue one, like water splashing out of the air. The dragon's head reeled back as the _Falcon_ soared over it.

" _Great shot, Indiana!"_ Jones heard an electronic version of his own voice cheer.

He exhaled, nearly perceiving the rest of the madness before he stopped himself.

The dragon heaved itself forth, shielding its head between its forearms to block the giant spacemen's oncoming fists. The surrounding space quaked at the guarded blows.

The shade of yellow in the dragon's eyes changed. Where before they were like caverns flooded with candlelight, now they were like rising suns.

It seemed to look straight into Jones' face.

It smiled.

 **VI**

" _We hear you, Captain Picard!"_

Picard was so overcome with relief that he did not realize that he had clenched his fists and declared, " _Yes!"_

He turned to the screen on the TARDIS' wooden wall, which flickered from the giants battling in the vortex to a white bridge filled with an anxious crew.

Picard was delighted to see each face. He had been careful not to consider it, but he had worried that he might not see them again.

The chair in the bridge's center was distractingly empty. Picard planned to rectify that.

"Where exactly _are_ you all?" A young man in a yellow uniform and a silver visor questioned.  
"Our scanners say you're in a small pod, but it looks like you're on a bridge as big as our own."

"I'll explain everything in due time, Geordi," Picard replied. "For now, we need you to beam Riker, Data, Worf, and myself aboard. But maintain the communications link so the Doctor may relay his plan to us."

"Doctor who?" Geordi asked immediately.

Picard glanced at the Doctor, who continued working away at the console alongside Romana. He had put on his toothy grin.

" _The_ Doctor," Picard answered. "As I said, Geordi; in due time."

"Of course, Captain…" Geordi pressed a button at his console. "Beaming you aboard now."

Picard suspected that a decidedly confused look hid behind that visor.

He felt his body ignite with an electric tingle. He could feel and smell the brisk wood and the warm carpet of the TARDIS, and at the same time, the cozy hallways of the _Enterprise._

"Remember, Captain Jean-Luc Picard," the Doctor said. "On my mark."

Picard nodded. "It's been a pleasure, Doctor."

The Doctor grinned again. "It still is, Captain."

The grin dissolved into the stark black walls of the _Enterprise's_ transporter room.

"To the bridge!" Picard darted down the hallway, not looking behind him for Riker, Data, and Worf, but hearing their boots echo off the floor behind him.

Within seconds, they were all back where they belonged. Picard's body stiffened with a magnetic sensation. It was as if he had always been standing in front of his chair, having only just awoken from a dream about Aperture and Maleficent and being a Heartless.

He looked ahead at the scanner, where any dream-like notions were smote by the sight of the two giant men, the TARDIS, the _Falcon,_ the Delorean, the numerous seemingly insect-sized fighters, the giant, shrieking, blue-furred gorilla, and the roaring dragon around which they all orbited.

"Friends," Picard announced, his gaze locked on Maleficent as if she were on the bridge with him.  
"On my command, initiate lightspeed in the direction of the dragon."

" _At_ the dragon, Captain?!" One of the younger red-shirts asked, his face praying that Picard was joking.

"Yes, Wesley; _directly_ at it," Picard stated. "Exactly when I command and not a moment sooner!"

He looked back at the scanner, where something about the dragon's face had changed. It grinned in a contemptuous reiteration of the Doctor's grin.

Picard found that its body had changed as well. Its skin seemed to froth like a violent chemical reaction.

Picard was anxious for the Doctor's command.

 **VII**

The air around Sheriff Woody became filled with a humid sandy wind.

Though he saw himself clutching a black scale, his fingers felt bunches of dirt.

He looked straight ahead, where he found undeniable proof that somebody, somewhere, despised him.

"Howdy-doo, Sheriff," a tall, lanky man in goggles and a lab coat faced him. He ran his gloved hands over his buzzcut.  
"It's been _ages!"_

Woody's mind went blank, unable to even think of a witty greeting.

"Sid," Buzz, beside him, shouted in disbelief. "Last we saw you, you were surrounded by your own hodgepodge creations!"

"Oh, yes, Buzzy-Bee," chirped Dr. Sid Phillips (although both Woody and Buzz were convinced that he had never attended medical school).  
"And it was perhaps the best thing that ever happened to me! My children were so overcome with gratitude for how beautiful I'd made them that they decided to give me the gift that I'd given them!"

"What do you mean?" Woody clutched his pistol. He scorned the question the instant it had leaped from his mouth.

Sid beamed.

He reached up and clutched the top of his head. He pulled; his flesh suddenly seemed to Woody like fabric.

The face came off like a cloth.

Snow white skin. Two horns; one half the length of the other. A green left eye. A black, beady right eye. A long beak overflowing with teeth of varying jagged shaped.

Before Woody could even realize what he was looking at, let alone fire his gun, it had pounced at him and Buzz, pinning them beneath its claws.

Woody and Buzz filled it with bullets and laser blasts, but it only tilted its head and grinned hungrily.

It did not even bleed.

Woody's brain crashed. He demanded it to give him a plan, but it answered him only with screaming.

Desperate, he glanced left. Hopps and Wilde lay beside him, prying at something pinning them which Woody could not see. He turned right, looking through the glass of Buzz's helmet; Mulan, Shang, and Aladdin were in the same predicament, but still Woody could not see their attacker.

He did, however, hear them urging through their teeth.

"Bellwether!"

"Shan Yu!"

"Jafar!"

Woody turned back to Sid, whose extended jaw salivated onto his face. But Woody didn't feel the spittle hit his cheek.

He looked right into the mismatched eyes; he saw the Delorean soar overhead. Its rear windows spat bright blue streaks which impacted the base of the dragon's neck like meteorites in the distance.

Woody sat up, blinked, and Sid was gone.

There was a pungent smell of leaves and rainwater, as if he were in a swamp.

He found Jack Skellington restraining the Scarecrow with one arm. With the other, he tore the burlap mask away, revealing the scornful, scarlet face of Jonathan Crane. Beside them, Sally returned a lid to a small, smoking vase.

"I was hoping I'd find a use for that concoction," she said with a relieved and satisfied smile.

"Thanks for the save, friends." Woody tipped his hat after he and his allies had stood up.

"Seems like he used some of that phobia chemical," Buzz added.

"Indeed he did, Commander Lightyear," Jack chirped as he and Sally joined their teammates with their prisoner.  
He slid off Crane's syringe-fingered glove. He held it near his eye sockets, his face glowing like a child trying to peer through the wrapping of a Christmas present.  
"What a fascinating substance. Only a whiff and one's nightmares come alive before their very eyes. Sally; do you think you might help me recreate this in time for next Halloween?"

"Oh. I might," Sally said, looking at Jack through the murky yellow glass tubes attached to the glove's cuff.  
"If I could find the ingredients."

Crane scoffed. "Simpletons," he spat. "All your bravado and talk of mastering fright, yet you're not above stealing others' work."

"Not _stealing_ , my frightening friend," Jack replied, smiling defiantly at Crane's scowl.  
"I'll call it an _homage._ "

He returned to Sally. They smiled their smiles of gumless teeth and loose stitching, looking, Woody guessed, past the vials of fear toxin.

Woody was filled with a warm, hopeful tingle despite, or because of, their nightmarish appearance.

He thought of Bo.

The tingle intensified.

Then, in a single quake, the tingle degenerated into sickness.

The scaly back Woody and his roundup stood on expanded, becoming like molasses and burying them up to the waist.

Woody strained to pull himself free. In doing so, he looked up. The dragon no longer resembled a dragon, but now a bubbling mass connecting a network of humanoid shapes. Its head seemed only a topper for the sputtering black mess beneath it.

The two giants and the Genie, then in the form of an enormous gorilla clutching what used to be the dragon's neck, were suddenly coated in a crawling black substance like ink.

Maleficent stretched her arms out. They rippled through the slimy skin as if through a waterfall. The arms of the giants then sprung up the way a sleeve does when an arm slides through it.

The four heads reeled back.

An ear-splitting roar overpowered a trio of bellowing screams.

The towering, exerted neck folded as the head returned.

Woody's heart throttled him. He did not want the head to show itself. He knew that it had changed, but he didn't know exactly how.

He knew that he would never be able to forget it.

If he had the choice between Maleficent dropping dead at that moment and never having to look upon her new face, he would not have been able to decide.

The dragon looked down at him. He was asphyxiated by horror, madness, and a depressing realization that things just weren't going his way.

He turned to try and run; in his terror, he had forgotten that he and his roundup were stuck in the thickness of the dragon's undulating flesh. It was now up to their solar plexuses; they had to raise their arms to keep them free.

Woody looked all around him. He might've tried to lasso something to pull himself free, but his lasso was beneath the murky blackness.

He scanned the air above for any passing fliers. A significant number of them landed in the giants'- the dragon's- the thing's swooping fists, which then changed from fists to shadowy orbs of docile shapes. Within, Woody found a mohawk, a hammer, a pair of giant eagle-like wings, and several capes.

He looked down; Crane submerged himself into the liquid flesh. His face was peaceful. It seemed like he was climbing into a hot bath after a long and stressful day.

Woody turned to Buzz, hoping, praying that his jetpack was still unsubmerged.

It wasn't.

He looked into Buzz's face, the beginning of some final desperate resort already on his tongue. But when he saw his friend's face, designed for reassuring smiles and heroic grins, looking back at him with nothing but accepted defeat, that last resort fled from his mouth and his mind.

Buzz reached an armored hand out. Woody took it, hoping the suffocating feeling in his gut would soften, but it only grew.

He turned to his other side where Judy struggled and offered his hand. When she noticed it, she stopped and met his eyes. Woody felt like he was in front of a mirror; Hopps' face did everything which he had just felt. Desperation. Realization. Acceptance.

She took his hand. They both squeezed and nodded.

Judy took Wilde's hand. He took Sally's. She took Jack's.

Buzz took Mulan's hand. She took Shang's. He took Aladdin's.

At the center, Woody could feel them all. Not just Buzz's armor and Judy's fur. Jack's bones. Sally's fabric. Mulan and Shang's gloves. Aladdin's firm calluses.

He looked up at the colossal thing they were becoming a part of.

The thick substance grew to their shoulders.

He looked into its eyes. Not just the yellow eyes glaring down at him like twin suns, but the hordes of smaller red ones lighting up throughout its body like stars.

Woody was terrified.

The liquid scales encompassed him.

He wasn't anymore.

 **VIII**

Stitch was trying not to think about the big things. The dragon. The plan. The multicolored, multishaped tornado of madness they were all careening through. He tried to focus on the smaller parts.

"Batter up, ugly!"

"Batter?! We are not baking, stupid hu-"

For example, the rush of Mr. Incredible throwing him like a baseball at Zim's mutated head.

He tucked himself into a ball on the way. He felt the crackling of Irken bones at his back as he rebounded, floating into the air and unraveling.

" _OW!_ My skull! My half-Irken, half-Experiment-filth skull!"

Stitch blew a raspberry down at his opponent, who stood by one of the dragon's spinal spikes as he clutched his head.

Hovering several feet in the air, Stitch had at least three seconds to scan the battlefield (or battle-air) beneath him.

He saw Sparky, Storm, and Starfire standing back-to-back in the air, alternating between firing at the dragon and at passers-by such as Boba Fett and the Green Goblin.

Chopsuey had teamed up with Hawkeye and the Green Arrow. The trio loosed their arrows, then the two humans turned to congratulate Chopsuey by playfully ruffling his white mohawk. They chuckled. He snarled.

Bonnie and Clyde landed not too far away beside Luke, Chewbacca, and Ash. When they did, Ash took Clyde's left hand and Luke's right and, to their astonishment and Bonnie and Chewie's befuddlement, holding them in the air and declaring, "The Amputee Brothers!"

Stitch looked straight down. Zim's left arms were trapped in their own separate purple force fields. His right half was restrained by Spooky, taking the form of Zim's watery doppelganger.

" _Unhand me, you-"_ The Irken's threat was reduced to a groan as a lightning-fast fist flew across his jaw.

"Unhand?" Dash laughed. "Have any good guys ever said 'unhand?'"

Zim opened his mouth. A furry pink ball hit his forehead.

" _And stop throwing lifeforms at me!"_

His request was immediately denied by a furry green ball.

" _Sta-errrrrr-ike three!"_ Mr. Incredible shouted. "You're _out!"_

The two projectiles unraveled on their way up to Stitch, revealing the smiling faces of Angel and Felix.

As they neared him, they each showed him a clawed foot. Stitch stood on them with his own feet and pushed, propelling his cousins downwards and himself upwards.

He looked down. Felix and Angel each got a hook in at Zim's mismatched eyes as they landed.

Up. He headed for the joined, elongated arms of Elastigirl and Elastico.

"Look, Stitch!" Ellie chirped. "We're both flexible!"

"Cool, El."

The arms stretched back with Stitch, then slingshotted him back at Zim.

As he zoomed in, he found Zim being kept at bay by laser burts from the eyes of Jayjay and Daniel.

He balled up again and landed with a crash at the dead center of Zim's skull, flooring the mutated Irken.

Stitch rolled off of their groaning opponent, turning to give a high-five to any nearby Experiments and Incredibles.

Angel hopped on Violet's shoulders, ruffling her hair as the super made a sound mixing a grunt and a giggle. Elastico licked Elastigirl's face. Jayjay hugged Daniel.

Stitch turned back around, showing whatever was there a wide, victorious smile.

Whatever was there ripped it from his face.

Whatever was there, Stitch didn't know what it was. He knew that it had been the dragon a moment ago. He also knew that it was consuming everyone in its path.

Looking at it was like watching an enormous wave in the distance sending surfers tumbling into the water. But the surfers didn't emerge in their usual bouts of laughter and sleekened hair. Instead, their arms and faces screamed out of the blackness, as if the dark liquid were mimicking their silhouettes.

Stitch swallowed. It was suddenly impossible to even consider the small things. There was only the wave.

Sparky swooped down and declared what Stitch was thinking; "Back to TARDIS!"

He took Elastigirl and Elastico by an arm, lifting them into the air. Helen stretched her other arm down and Ellie sent both of his legs. The limbs dangled like rope ladders for the two families to grab on to.

Stitch was the last one on, clutching Elastico's toes with Angel just above him.

He saw Jayjay shimming up, getting as close to his mother as possible. His face was strangely blank. His brain was probably too overwhelmed to shape his face into expressions. Stitch thought so because he felt likewise about himself.

He looked into the distance; Luke Ash, and Clyde, with Bonnie on his shoulder, fled from the black wave. It was almost on them when Luke thrust his palm in Stitch's direction.

Bonnie and Clyde were suddenly carried through the air, yelping at the involuntary leap.

Luke motioned between Ash and Chewbacca; the latter picked up the bewildered former. Luke repeated his earlier motion, sending the wookie flying with a screaming Ash.

Then the Jedi vanished under the splashing darkness.

At the same time, directly beneath him, Stitch caught a glimpse of the archers. He found Green Arrow taking aim directly at him. Beside him, Hawkeye cupped his hands into a step for the leaping Chopsuey.

Experiment and arrow were flung towards the flying chain. On his way up, Chopsuey caught the arrow, which Stitch saw was attached to a long length of thick rope trailing back to Green Arrow.

In a swift orchestra of movements, Daniel caught Chopsuey, Spooky caught Clyde and Bonnie, and Violet stopped Chewbacca and Ash beside her in a forcefield.

Dan and Chop got to work pulling Green Arrow and Hawkeye up with the rope. Stitch and Angel clutched it and pulled as well.

It wasn't heavy. _Is heavy,_ Stitch thought, _but cousins strong._

He looked up; the TARDIS wasn't far away. He could've hit it with a spitball.

He felt a violent tug on the rope. He looked down, astonished and horrified to see that the black wave had leaped somehow, clawing at the dangling and struggling archers.

They looked up at Stitch with expressions of terror that did not match their heroic masks, and then were smothered in the thick blackness.

The rope was torn from the Experiments' hands.

" _Ollie!"_ Chopsuey cried. " _Clint!"_

The moment had barely settled into Stitch's mind. It seemed more to him that the two archers had never existed.

He found three people running with the wave at their heels; Daredevil, Spider-Man, and Batman.

"Angie," he called up. "Gonna stick to your feet, okay?"

"Okay."

He inverted himself, standing upside down with his and Angel's adhesive soles clinging together.

"Matty! Pete! Bruce!" He waved all four arms at them, inviting them to grab on.

The three looked up at first perturbed; Stitch had a fleeting realization that they must not be used to being called by their real names while in their costumes. But their faces changed to ones of intense hope as they each threw up some kind of lifeline; Bruce's grappling hook, Peter's web, and Matt's club attached to a long length of rope.

The next moment was like a blink. The Green Goblin, flying overhead, dived from his glider, and the Joker splashed out of the blackness behind Bruce. Their cackles filled Stitch's ears even from far down below. The Goblin tackled Peter, the Joker seized Bruce, and they were all consumed by the wave as Stitch caught Matt's baton.

Stitch pulled hand over hand, registering Matt but only barely the absence of Peter and Bruce. They had vanished into that same space of non-existence as Luke, Green Arrow, and Hawkeye.

Matt's face seemed tense and rigid. He had never once looked back at his friends, but Stitch could tell that he knew what had happened.

Stitch and Matt's hands had just met when the wave leaped again. It zipped past them to his extremely temporary relief; it instead began its consumption at the top of the chain.

The next few moments were blurred in a torrent of tumbling commotion. There was a chorus of short cries; Stitch barely had time to hear them. He could make out the voices of Sparky, Ellie, Dash, Violet, and Chewbacca's rolling roar, but there were much more which blended together in a single cry.

The torrents of colors and shapes became tangled as Stitch spun in the air, clutching Matt with his hands and Angel with his feet.

He caught a glimpse of Ash falling in the ever-changing direction of the reaching wave. He turned in midair, revving up his chainsaw. Over the erupting noise, Stitch could discern his battle cry; " _Excalibur this, you medieval bitch!"_

Stitch was braced for the inevitable murky splash, and so was surprised and strangely disappointed when his tumble suddenly halted in midair. He looked at his feet; they were still stuck to Angel's, and she, Daniel, and Chopsuey had their palms pressed to the underside of the TARDIS. Beside him, he found a pair of black boots and a brown-furred leg disappearing into the floating box.

After a quick series of swings, Stitch was helping Matt into the TARDIS. He felt safe for all of a single second before he saw who else had joined him. Angel, Chopsuey, Daniel, Chewbacca, Jayjay, Elastigirl. Nobody else. Once again, the others had stopped existing.

Worse was that Elastigirl's elongated arm still trailed out the TARDIS doors. Without looking, Stitch knew where it led.

Helen struggled to free her arm; her boots scraped against the scarlet carpet. Jayjay, Chewie, Matt, and Stitch's remaining cousins hugged her, pulling with all their might, but whatever it was down there could match their immense combined strength.

"What in the name of Rassilon is going on out there?!" Romana questioned.

Stitch turned to the two Time Lords, who spared momentary glances at their struggling passengers as they concentrated on their button-pressing, dial-twisting, and lever-pulling.

The console was incomprehensible to Stitch, but one feature stood out to him. He had seen it before but only now actually noticed it. A telephone.

"What is it?" The Doctor snapped as Stitch approached the console. His eyes remained glued to his work.

"Stitch needs to do something." Likewise, Stitch kept fixated on the phone. He hopped onto the console and picked it up.

"Shouldn't you be outside helping the others to safety? Or doing something important?"

"All gone," Stitch replied, too crestfallen to snap back at the Doctor. "This _is_ important. To me."

He dialed. As he put the receiver to his ear, he noticed the Doctor's wild eyes glance at him once more, this time with a soft, apologetic look, before they locked back onto his busy hands.

He turned to his cousins, who strained to maintain the stalemate. They looked at him with fleeting looks of irritation, but then their faces cooled into soft nods. They knew what he was doing. They knew that one of them had to do it.

Stitch was greeted by a nanosecond of a dial tone. It was followed by an anxious and familiar voice.

" _Hello?"_

"Aloha, Nani."

What followed was a series of distant, excited exclamations before they came closer, cheering into his ear.

" _Stitch! You're okay!"_

" _Are the other little guys alright?!"_

" _Was it the tyrannical overlords of Zim's home planet?!"_

" _We really missed you,"_ Lilo spoke softest.

"We missed you, too," Stitch replied.

He exhaled and blinked tears out of his eyes. He hopes this wouldn't be his last conversation with his ohana, but just in case, he had to make it count.

"Cousins caught by Maleficent. Saved by new friends. But still in trouble...Not sure if we can escape this time…"

Silence. He could feel their tears as if they were in his own eyes.

"Dib. Dave. Nani. Lilo. We are so happy we got to be your ohana. We love you most in whole universe. We always will."

He shut his eyes. For a while, he was deaf to the crashing, beeping, thrashing, and straining around him. He only heard a quivering sigh through the phone.

" _Stitch,"_ Lilo said. " _Come home."_

Immediately after she spoke, there was a laugh louder than Stitch thought any sound could be. When he heard it, it hurt.

It hurt so much.

His eyes sprung open. The doorway was filled by a pool of blackness swarming with writhing silhouettes. At its center was a giant eye melting between every color. Stitch had a sickening feeling that he was alone in the universe with whatever this thing was.

Elastigirl was pulled into its liquid skin. Matt, Jayjay, Chewbacca, and Daniel's grips were broken, but Angel and Chopsuey held on. They did, however, lose their footing.

In an instant, Stitch dropped the phone and made a single bound to the door. He clutched the doorframe with his lower hands, reaching out with his upper arms just as his friends were consumed by the humongous shadow.

It was like water well below freezing.

Stitch's claws immediately closed around something. He felt like he had Angel's ankle, and so felt especially shocked when whatever he was holding grabbed back at him.

In a second, his grip on the TARDIS door frame was dislodged just as his friends inside grabbed onto him, leaving him suspended above the vortex that was quickly being filled by this abominable black thing.

Stitch felt himself being pulled into the cackling shadow. He felt his friends being towed in with him.

He wondered if all of this was supposed to be happening to somebody else.

With a sharp kick from both legs, he broke free from the TARDIS and splashed into the shadowy skin.

There was the frigid feeling of being soaked in ice.

There was the cozy feeling of being with his ohana.

 **IX**

Matt's body burned with the pain of skidding across carpet and stopping against a wooden console.

His mouth and nose were filled with a freezing air like a blizzard blowing exclusively in his face.

His ears were asphyxiated by a horde of noise.

The beeping and groaning from the TARDIS console. The machine sounded like it was in agony.

The Doctor and Romana breathing through their noses. To Matt, they were like speeding steam engines.

"Mommy…" He heard the kid whimper. "Daddy...Dash. Vi…"

"No…" The alien gasped. "Not again."

The wookie roared.

All of their heartbeats combined into an ominous melody like a ceremony preceding a sacrifice.

And the laughter. It boomed, echoing a thousand times and making him feel like a grenade had exploded beside each of his ears. Matt couldn't tell if it was still outside or if it was already ensnaring him.

Beneath all of it, he found a softer voice. Despite its electronic crackle, it was an auditory sanctuary to Matt.

" _Stitch? Where did you go?"_

Matt reached out in the sound's direction, seizing, as he expected, a phone. He put it to his left ear, leaving his right to face the chaos alone.

"Hello."

" _Hi,"_ the kid didn't sound scared. Confused, anxious, but not scared.  
" _Are you one of Stitch's new friends?"_

"Give them back!"

"Take thy beak from out my heart…"

Laughter.

"Yes," Matt said without thinking.

The TARDIS shook, making him clutch the side of the console.

The laughter grew louder. Matt's ears throbbed; he wondered if they were bleeding.

"My name's Matthew," he said. It took every ounce of his willpower not to scream.

"Hey Matthew," the kid said. "I'm Lilo. Is Stitch still there?" She spoke as if Matt had taken her friend away.

Matt experienced a fleeting sensation of recognition. The carpet floor became cold wood. The thunderous laughter became distant police sirens. He heard Lilo's tone coming out of his own mouth. It asked, "Where's my dad?"

Matt opened his mouth to answer.

" _Give them back!"_

" _Take thy form from off my door!"_

The kid and the alien roared with the wookie. They harmonized with the noise of blaster fire, the screech of laser bursts, and the groan of soaring flame.

Their hearts stampeded.

" _Matthew?"_ Lilo urged. " _Is Stitch okay?"_

Matt pulled himself up, keeping a hand on the console.

" _Give them back!"_

" _Take thy beak from out my heart!"_

Matt felt like Maleficent was cackling directly into his ear.

"This is the Doctor! Are we prepared, my dears?"

Electric voices responded one at a time.

"Enterprise _, standing by."_

"Falcon _, standing by."_

" _The, uh,_ Delorean _, standing by."_

" _Give them back!"_

" _Take thy form from off my door!"_

The TARDIS beeped louder, as if it were trying to be heard over the ever-loudening laughter.

"Now's the time," the Doctor declared. "Fly straight at Maleficent and dematerialize on the count of one."

" _Copy."_

" _Got it."_

" _With ya, Doc."_

" _Matthew?"_

" _GIVE THEM BACK!"_

"Five!"

" _TAKE THY BEAK FROM OUT MY HEART!"_

Matt didn't hear laughter anymore.

"Four!"

" _Matthew?!"_

He heard screaming.

" _GIVE THEM BACK!"_

" _TAKE THY FORM FROM OFF MY DOOR!"_

"Three!"

He heard dozens upon dozens of screams. He could pick them out.

" _Is my ohana okay?"_

He could hear Logan's feral roar, Peter's panicked cry, and Captain America's passionate yell. He heard Skywalker and the super-kid's family and Lilo's ohana.

"Two!"

He heard everyone. Screaming. When they screamed together, they made Maleficent's laughter.

Matt wanted to scream with them.

"Yes," he answered. His voice was calm. "Everyone's okay."

" _ONE!"_

He opened his mouth. The need to scream was gone.

"Everyone's okay."

 **X**

" _Engage!"_

" _Punch it!"_

" _Outta time, Mistress!"_

 **XI**

The sky was aflame with fireworks of every color. It was so bright that it seemed more like day than night.

The fireworks overlooked the castle, which overlooked the kingdom, growing wider every day. Following the many winding paths throughout, all of them crowded with cheering residents who were illuminated by the colorful explosions, Maleficent traced the way up to the hilltop where she sat.

She had never thought about it, but the fireworks were beautiful. She was only realizing it now, she thought, because now she would never have anything like them.

She had one last look over the kingdom. It was almost beautiful. It was just missing something. Or there was something there that shouldn't be.

She thought she could do better. She most likely would have.

Nobody would ever know now.

She heard footsteps in the grass behind her.

She felt a cold gaze on her. It was better than the warm ones that had been scorching her all her life.

"I did better this time," she said, fixated on the fireworks. "Didn't I?"

She heard a chuckle.

"A little."

 **XII**

Luke's body ached all over. He felt like his skin and bones had turned to stone.

He had trouble breathing. There was a feeling all around him like he was lying in a mound of miniature leaves. He sat up, which took every bit of his remaining strength, and opened his eyes.

He never thought he'd be so relieved to see an ordinary blue sky.

He looked around at what he sat in. He picked it up and let it fall between his fingers.

Ashes.

Glancing around, he found others rising from the sea of ashes.

Dante brushed the crumbs from his white hair. He had an anxious look that did not belong on his usually arrogant face.

Chell darted up, breathing heavily as if having awoken from a nightmare. She leaned her head back, taking in the bright sky and the fresh air. Her breathing steadied and she smiled.

Sheriff Woody and Buzz Lightyear immediately found each other, rose to their knees, and hugged. Even with the distance between them, Luke could see tears in their eyes.

The Lizard and the Man-Bat rose, coated in ashes. By the time the dust had fallen off of their backs, they had shrunk in size, and their scales and fur were melting into human skin.

Further away, kneeling in a circle like a cult, he found Boba Fett, the Master, Zim, Vergil, the Goblin, the Scarecrow, and the Joker. Their heads were bowed. Luke was afraid that they might get up and flee, but they stayed put.

About three miles away, to Luke's astonishment, the ash continued. The giant Atom and Ant-Man slowly sat up. It took about two minutes for them to rise.

Bordering the pool of ash was a field of wheat. Luke had a notion that this was where he and his fellow Heartless had lured Jones, Croft, and Drake into the TARDIS.

Luke wasn't sure, but as he looked all around him, he thought that the ash was laid out in the vague shape of a dragon.

He looked out again amidst the perplexed faces and the excited huggers splashing through the ashes. His eyes came to rest on Batman, who was removing his cowl. The face of Bruce Wayne found Luke, who could not look anywhere else. Somehow, perhaps through the Force, he felt that Bruce could not look away from him, either.

He heard laughter.

It started as a whisper. As he sat and kept his eyes locked on Bruce, it grew louder.

Bruce's eyes widened in a petrified glare. He could hear it too.

There was a series of screeching bangs. Everyone darted up; the sky was filled by a blue box, a flying car, a disc-shaped ship, and another ship that shadowed about a third of the pool of ash.

When Luke saw them, the laughter stopped. A chilling wave of relief came over him; one which he had not felt since the last time he saw his father.

As the ships descended, Luke felt only the faintest whisper tickling his ears.

 _ **HEARTLESS**_

 **Season 1, Episode 8**

 **Featuring:**

 _ **Marvel**_

 _ **DC**_

 _ **Ghostbusters**_

 _ **Evil Dead**_

 _ **Devil May Cry**_

 _ **Star Wars**_

 _ **Doctor Who**_

 _ **Invader Zim**_

 _ **Indiana Jones**_

 _ **Tomb Raider**_

 _ **Uncharted**_

 _ **Portal**_

 _ **Back to the Future**_

 _ **Star Trek: The Next Generation**_

 _ **Final Fantasy VII**_

 _ **Aladdin**_

 _ **The Nightmare Before Christmas**_

 _ **Toy Story**_

 _ **Mulan**_

 _ **Lilo & Stitch**_

 _ **The Incredibles**_

 _ **Zootopia**_

 **And** _ **Sleeping Beauty**_

They had been gone for a whole day. He figured that it was safe to go now.

They had left the pool of ash where it was. To be fair, it was a lot to clean up.

He approached the edge of it. The shape of a monstrous jaw brimming with teeth glared back up at him. He knelt down and picked up a handful of what used to be one of the front teeth. It felt soft. Softer than any ash he had felt before.

He thought he would be frustrated, but he was calm. In fact, he was happy. Not because she was dead; he did feel a twinge of grief somewhere deep in what remained of his soul.

Though she hadn't succeeded in their goal this time, he thought this might open some promising new doors. Doors which, no doubt, his old friend would soon stumble upon. And even if he didn't, the man in black had ways of nudging him in the right direction.

He looked up. At the other side of the pool of ash, as if pretending to be his reflection, was the boy. Not so much a boy anymore, it seemed. Of course; he would be fresh off of his first great battle, wouldn't he?

When he saw the man in black, he paled and his eyes widened, almost filling those big round glasses of his. He scooped some of the ash into a vial. The moment it was full, he vanished in a twisting vortex.

The man in black stood up, grinning at the spot where the boy had just been, then turned back to the wheat.

"Long days, my new friends, and pleasant nights," he said, looking up at the burning dusk sky. "While they last."


	10. Season 2 Teaser

And so ends season one…

A quick thank-you to everyone who has taken the time to read and enjoy this insane project of mine.

So, the Heartless have been restored, Maleficent is defeated, and it seems everything goes back to normal.

Well, not quite.

This crossover, as many of you have no doubt guessed, doesn't just end with everyone going their separate ways after defeating their common enemy. There are many more adventures to come with many new alliances.

The Justice League and the Avengers have joined up.

Ash Williams is now working alongside Dante at Devil May Cry.

The _Enterprise_ is gaining a new crew member.

Sheriff Woody has a new case to solve.

And that's only a few things to expect in season two.

Going forward, I plan to see relationships and connections growing between the heroes we've already seen and ones still to come over several stories. With the shared experience of facing or becoming Heartless, there will be a lot for them to overcome together.

Last season, I posted hints for the featured characters in the form of quotations from their source material. May as well be consistent.

Feel free to speculate in the reviews section. Additionally, I would greatly appreciate hearing what your favorite season one episode was and/or which characters you would like to see together in the future.

" _A wise man said forgiveness is divine, but never pay full price for late pizza."_

 _"I don't know if you've ever let someone down, got your ass kicked or straight up failed, but those are the moments that define us. They push you further than you've ever thought possible and force you to make choices...No matter what the cost."_

" _I called this place home once, in peaceful times, long before evil haunted the caverns below."_

" _You are the villain and I am the goddamn hero!"_

" _One shudders to imagine what inhuman thoughts lie behind that mask. What dreams of chronic and sustained cruelty."_

" _I love it when a plan comes together."_

" _To all who come to this happy place, welcome!"_

" _What people call love is just a chemical reaction that compels animals to breed."_

" _When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."_

" _Why are you wearing that stupid rabbit suit?"_

" _Never compromise. Not even in the face of Armageddon."_

" _This has gotta be the longest forty seconds of my life."_

" _I destroy the world and create it anew."_

" _You are all my children now."_

" _It's dangerous to go alone."_

" _I do not kill with my gun. He who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father. I kill with my heart."_

" _All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."_

" _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."_


	11. S2E1: Assemble

**Season 2, Episode 1:**

 _ **Assemble**_

 **I**

"You guys _sure_ you're not gonna come?" Violet asked, returning the last of the clean dishes to the upper cupboard.

"We want to, sweetie," her mom said, packing another Tupperware container into Violet's school bag.

"But we discussed it," her dad added, looking up from his ironing and offering a firm but encouraging smile.  
"And we think it'd be good for the three of you to join a super-team on your own. We didn't have super-parents to help us with our powers; we had to figure it all out ourselves. We want to make sure you can become the best hero you can be, but we think you should all have a chance to do some independent hero-ing like we did."

"But we can come if you want us to," Violet's mom said.

She smiled. Violet smiled back. She wanted them to come. She felt like they should after all the Heartless business. But she felt like her dad was right. She felt like her mom thought so, even if she wouldn't admit it. It was still some time away for her brothers, but it wouldn't be long before Violet would be living her own life. That meant that, sooner or later, she wouldn't be able to call on Elastigirl and Mr. Incredible for help, and she would have to get used to it.

In a way, she'd been used to it since she'd first donned her mask on Nomanisan Island. Now it was only a matter of being willing.

"We'll be fine," Violet said. She hugged her mom.  
"You guys gotta keep Municiberg safe while we're gone."

"And we will," Violet's mom replied. Though it was her father who possessed super-strength, whenever her mother hugged her, Violet thought that she did, too.  
"But remember you can call us if you need us."

They parted. Violet looked into her mother's face, radiant with pride and fragile with tears.

She considered telling her about her nightmare.

"Wow!" Dash exclaimed from the living room. "We get to ride in _that?!"_

"How does he get them to move?" Jayjay added.

"Sounds like they're here," Violet said.

Her mom zipped up Violet's bag and handed it to her. "There's spare suits and some food in there, just in case."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Well," her dad gave an impressed and bewildered chuckle as he peered out the window.  
"Give 'em points for style...You sure the skeleton guy's alright, Vi?"

"Jack's cool," Violet answered as she slung the bag over her shoulder on the way to the door.  
"He wouldn't have helped us against the Mistress if he wasn't."

Silence followed as Dash joined her with Jayjay on his shoulders. Violet tried not to react to how she had referred to Maleficent. Nobody else seemed to notice, but Violet could tell that they did.

She could feel it just like she could feel that faint whisper slither through her ears again.

The Incredibles shared a hug. They had not done so since they had awoken in Maleficent's ashes only a few days prior.

They had each had to take five showers that night.

"Say hi to Lucius and Karen for us," Violet said as she opened the door.

"And you say hi to Bruce," her dad replied. "Ask him how he keeps the cape outta trouble."

"And to Ellie, too, if you see him," her mom added.

"You got it."

Violet led her siblings outside to their awaiting escorts.

Living in the solitudinous hilltop house which Winston Deavor had been providing for them all these years, Violet had always been comforted that nobody was ever around to witness the Incredibles' comings and goings.

Today, she was especially thankful for that secrecy. She could only imagine the fuss that would be caused by the floating carpet on her driveway, as well as the Arabian prince and two Chinese soldiers sitting cross-legged upon it. And any passers-by would surely be traumatized by the suited skeleton and his uniformed rabbit and fox companions, let alone the eight grinning reindeer skeletons towing the coffin they sat in.

They all smiled and waved when they saw the Incredibles. The carpet wiggled its tassels. The reindeer stamped their hooves.

"Hey, guys," Violet chirped.

"The Incredible Parrs," Jack cheered. "Prince Aladdin and I have a wager that we need your help with!"

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Aladdin added. "To see if you guys wanna fly by reindeer or carpet!"

 **II**

Bullseye.

"Golly bob-howdy, Woody! That's four in a row!"

"Would ya expect anythin' less, Slink?"

Woody went to retrieve his dart from the circular board. It perfectly outlined the fingernail-sized center, as though it had been carefully placed there.

Which was, in a sense, exactly what Woody had done.

His dart was bordered by three others; two neighbors and another around the corner, respectively belonging to Jessie, Slinky, and Buzz.

Woody took the darts and turned to face the saloon, which was empty save for his friends.

Buzz stood across from the dartboard. He had changed from his green and white armor to a purple jacket with shin-length tails. Apparently, this was considered fashionable on the planet Zed.

Sylvester Earnest was a long, skinny fellow with long, skinny brown hair and a long, skinny mustache that was more like a lonely pair of whiskers. He wore a black jacket and hat which somehow made him seem even longer and skinnier. It was because of his longness and skinniness, as well as because of all the times Woody had seen him crawling through tall grass to sneak up on bandit camps, that he had been dubbed Slinky Sylvester, or more often, simply Slinky.

Jessie always wore a white coat, a bright red stetson to match her ginger ponytail, and a prize-winning smile. Woody saw it much more now than he did years ago.

It saddened him to remember the story of Emily, but he always perked right back up at Jessie's smile. It had him think that, wherever Emily was, she was smiling, too.

Woody looked for Bo but found that, once again, she had vanished.

Before the Sheriff could ask the others where she had gone, he felt something curl around his neck.

"Bo," he laughed. "If One-Eyed Bart n' Betty were as sneaky as you, the Bank of Andes Rume would be cleaned out." He turned around to face her.

As dirty as she got shepherding, which was only somewhat dirtier than any citizen of Andes Rume got in their profession, Woody always thought she was perfect.

"I think we'd be just fine as long as Sheriff Woody's lookin' out for us," she said, unhooking her crook from around him.

They kissed.

For a second, Woody envisioned the wheat field blanketed in the dragon's ashes. Despite his relief, there had maintained a notion of terror, as if Maleficent had stalked him even into the TARDIS and back home. Only when he saw the small, neat wooden streets of Andes Rume again did the chilling feeling fade. It faded further when his friends, his deputies, and Mayor Dolly Davis gave him an ecstatic and relieved welcome back.

When Bo kissed him, the feeling left him entirely.

"You sure about goin' back out there?" Bo asked.

"Sure I'm sure," Woody said. "There's lots out there, Bo. Much more than Buzz or Star Command or even Maleficent...And they're lookin' at _us._ At _me._ I'll betcha any of 'em are just waitin' to jump on us, so I gotta jump on 'em first."

"It's a big universe, Sheriff. You know where to look?"

"Aladdin's friend," Buzz added. "That Genie; he says he can remember some visions he had while he was trapped in the Doctor's ship. We're going to rendezvous with them and figure out where to go."

"Ya sure ya don't want us to come with ya?" Jessie asked.

"We need you here," Woody replied. "Gotta keep Andes Rume safe on _every_ front." He put the darts down on the table, trading them for his lasso, which he slung over his shoulder.  
"Jessie, you're in charge 'till I get back."

"How come ya never leave _me_ in charge, Woody?" Slinky questioned.

"'Cause he's the Sheriff, Slink," Jessie teased. "It's up to him."

"Actually, you make a good point, Slink." Woody picked up one of the darts, twirling it between his fingers.  
"Tell ya what; I'll make it fair." He turned to the dartboard, then, in the same turning motion, snapped his arm out towards it.

Bullseye.

"Whoever matches that is in charge while I'm out."

Jessie and Slinky scrambled eagerly for the darts.

Woody tipped his hat to them as they took aim, then left the saloon with Bo and Buzz.

The dirt streets of Andes Rume bustled as they always did in the early morning. Glancing around, Woody saw Mr. Hamilton, the portly, sharply-dressed banker, tipping his bowler hat to Mayor Davis. She straightened her bright orange lapels before tipping her own hat, revealing her six pigtails.

"Mornin', Mayor."

"Mornin', Hamm."

Down the street, the Sheriff found Trixie and Reg rehearsing their next play. He couldn't see their faces, but any time an elaborate costume made from woodwork, barrels, and other amenities was worn in Andes Rume, it was safe to bet that Reg or Trixie was inside.

It seemed this one was about dinosaurs.

Woody turned; another of his deputies seemed to have teleported beside him. His jacket, trousers, boots, and hat were all the same dark shade of green. He was only an inch shorter than Woody, but he had an intense look. Not a mean one; just one that said that he was paying very, _very_ close attention. His face and his head were clean-shaven.

" _Sir!_ Will you be heading out now, _Sir?!"_

"I am indeed, Ermey," Woody smiled at him. He made sure to always do so. It was a life goal for him to see Ermey smile one day.

"Myself and the others give our regards, _Sir!"_

"Thank ya kindly. Jessie or Slinky's in charge while I'm gone. They're sortin' it out now. They'll let ya know."

" _Sir, yes, Sir!"_

"Can I count on you to keep the town safe?"

"Always, _Sir!"_

"That's what I like to hear. Dismissed, Sarge." Woody saluted.

Ermey's lips twitched at the nickname as if wanting to smile but being held back by the rest of his face.

 _Almost,_ Woody thought.

" _Sir!"_ Ermey returned the salute, then resumed his march down the street.

"Have you told him that he doesn't have to act like that around you?" Buzz asked.

"Several times," Woody answered. "Everyone's got their way. That's Ermey's way. And if it helps him get the job done, I'm all for it."

They made their way to the stable by the Sheriff's office. Bullseye perked up and stamped his hooves at the sight of Woody. Buttercup shook his golden mane. Buzz's white-and-green pod waited right where it had been left. The triumphant blue wings of the Star Command emblem gleamed in the morning sunlight.

Bo took Woody's hand. "You boys be careful out there."

Woody turned to her. They kissed again. It came as naturally to the Sheriff as a bullseye.

Woody savored it. He savored the friendly voices echoing around him, the sound of hooves against dirt, and the warm fresh air.

He knew that he had to go to protect it all. He also knew that, as soon as he left, he would be back to the wheat, the cold, and the ash.

 **III**

"We're here."

Marty jolted awake, suddenly aware of two fluffy presences; one behind his head and another on his chest.

He looked down his body, laid flat against the Delorean's reclined passenger seat. He found Stitch curled up and sound asleep on his torso, having settled into a shallow nest in the creases of Marty's jacket and shirt. He was smiling like sleeping was the greatest pleasure he knew.

Marty wished he could feel as comfortable. As he blinked himself awake, he had a chilling and disappointing realization that the ash-covered wheat field clouding his mind's eye had, in fact, not been a dream.

Stitch purred and opened his eyes, looking at Marty with his unchanged smile.

Marty instinctively went to pet him. Just as his fingertips met the silky blue fur, a thick, slimy tongue popped out, prodded the tip of Marty's nose, then retreated into Stitch's lips before Marty even knew it had come out.

With a mischievous giggle, Stitch rolled off of Marty and swung out of the Delorean on the rising gull wing door.

Marty wiped his nose against his sleeve, irritated for a few seconds, but Stitch's laughter seemed to hypnotize him, replacing his irritation with a soft chuckle.

Marty pulled the lever at his side to raise his seat. He felt a set of fuzzy lips blow a raspberry into his cheek. Angel then hopped out from behind his head, following Stitch and imitating his giggle.

"Wish _I_ could wake up that quickly," Marty muttered.

"Sleep well?" Doc asked, unbuckling his seat belt.

"Yeah," Marty answered after a moment. He watched the Experiments rolling and somersaulting in the sand outside, then turned to his friend.  
"I thought they wanted to ride on the roof."

"They did," Doc said. "But those two saw you napping and wanted to come in and join you." He pulled the driver's door up.  
"Seemed to do you good. You sounded like you were having an unpleasant dream. But once they got comfortable with you, you relaxed immediately." He disembarked.

Marty followed shortly after. As he did, he became aware of the ghost of a word in his throat.

 _Mistress._

 _You are more remarkable than you think, Mr. McFly._

Marty was suddenly outside. He felt like he had slept walked out of the Delorean.

The sand was soft; like walking on bundles of freshly washed blankets. Ahead of him, a quaint, red-roofed house smiled down at him from the end of a long staircase that would make a perfectly grueling P.E. activity.

Hawaii was as hot as he'd expected, but Marty didn't mind. His body was still cold.

Suddenly, he was picked up in the way that butch heroes always carry helpless damsels in action movie posters.

"Flying car is fun," Sparky snickered. "Now try flying _Sparky!"_

Marty was astonished at how effortlessly the thigh-high creature kept him aloft. More astonishing was the speed with which Sparky flew him up the marathon of steps. If the electric Experiment carried a flux capacitor, he could have time traveled in two steps.

Marty thought that the others would have to catch up, but once he stood up, he found them already beside him, having used Elastico's elongated leg as a zip line. Elastico himself came in right after them, carrying Doc just as Sparky had carried Marty.

"You alright, Doc?" Marty asked as his friend stumbled out of Elastico's arms.

"Quite alright, Marty," Doc said, straightening his jacket. Then, in a whisper, "What I wouldn't give to meet these creatures' creator."

"Careful what you wish for, Doc," Marty whispered back. "I get the feeling these guys didn't get along with their parents."

He found the Experiments piling into the front door. Leaning inside after them, he found them gleefully climbing all over their ecstatic human family.

He started to feel the Hawaiian heat.

"Aloha, Marty."

He looked down and found Lilo smiling up at him. Stitch sat on her shoulders, smiling as well. They hugged Marty with six arms.

"Thanks for bringing my ohana back," Lilo said.

Marty felt a unique sort of tightness in the hug. He could recall only one other time when he had experienced it, but he could remember when down to the minute; November 12th, 1955, 9:57 pm.

"Well," Marty said after a moment. His hands wandered over Lilo's sleek hair and the tuft of fur on Stitch's head.  
"We had a lot of help."

"I know," Lilo said. "But I wanna thank everyone who helped."

Marty looked down at them. Stitch licked his nose again.

He caught a glimpse of Doc being hugged by Nani and David. His arms hovered at his sides momentarily before he reciprocated.

There was a rapid wooden thumping from inside. Marty looked through the doorway and saw Angel sliding down the staircase banister as if on an invisible skateboard. She carried a white electric guitar with purple streaks bordering the strings.

Angel leaped off in a flawless front flip, then used Clyde and Elastico's shoulders as stepping stones to get to Marty. Her cousins barely flinched.

"Can you play for us, Marty?" She held the guitar out to him.

"Actually, we'd best be going," Doc said as Nani and David released him. "We've already been out of our own time for far too long."

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?" Angel grinned, showing Marty all of her teeth.

"Just one song?" Stitch pressed his chin against Marty's chest to look right up at him with expanded eyes. His drooping ears slapped Marty's elbows.

The Experiments swarmed Marty, tugging at his jacket, climbing on his shoulders, and pleading for even a few bars.

It was Marty's favorite kind of audience.

"And besides," Dib added from the sidelines. "You have a time machine, right? You can be back anytime you want."

Marty took Angel's guitar. The cheering crowd dispersed to let him enter the house.

"It's alright, Doc," Marty shrugged as he turned around to face his audience. "How much irreparable damage to the space-time continuum could one song do?"

Doc sighed and smiled.

Marty strummed a few chords, pleasantly surprised at how similar Angel's guitar felt to his own back in 1986.

He looked at his audience lined up in a crescent around him. They smiled at him in a way that Marty had never seen in an audience. They weren't judgemental sneers hiding behind masks of excitement. They were sincere, promising that they would adore him even if he only played random notes.

Marty knew just what to play for this type of crowd. Something he had written himself. Something they wouldn't get anywhere else.

He pointed to the ceiling, waited, then, when the air felt just right...

" _Tell me, doctor! Where are we goin' this time?!"_

 **IV**

Dr. Egon Spengler, Ph.D. looked over his notes.

What he wanted was an organized recollection of the crisis that had just passed. Maleficent. The Heartless. The TARDIS. The Time Vortex. Everything he knew about it all extracted neatly onto paper.

What he had was a drawing of a dragon.

Its jaws erupted with inky fire. Its white, blue-lined eyes glared up at Egon.

He leaned his elbows on his desk, staring into the drawing and trying to understand why it was there.

He felt cold. He remembered what it felt like to be consumed by Maleficent. It didn't feel like being consumed by Maleficent. It felt like _being_ Maleficent.

"Dr. Spengler, I presume?"

Egon darted to attention, feeling as if his spirit had just dropped back into his body after a brief ethereal stroll.

Standing over his desk was a black-bearded man with the dress sense of a lawyer but the laid-back posture of a high school student. Egon momentarily considered the possibility that Peter Venkman and Walter Peck had been merged into a single entity, then immediately dismissed the thought.

"Afternoon, Mr. Stark." Egon stuffed the drawing into his pocket. "I was working." He did not mean it as an apology, but once he had spoken, he knew that Stark would interpret it as such.

"No worries." Bingo. "So, didja wanna show off your toys?" Like his appearance, Stark had a voice for the boardroom and words for the playground.

"Yes." Egon stood up, beckoning Stark to follow him to the stairwell to his right.  
"I'd also like to discuss this contract that you mentioned to my associate, Dr. Stantz."

"I like you," Stark said. "You get straight to the point. We want you guys on the team."

"The team?"

"Yeah. We're still working on the name. Best we've got so far is _Avengers League_ , but it doesn't really roll off the tongue. Too clunky for a battle cry. _Avengers League assemble._ Bleh. But we'll get there."

"Names aside," Egon replied, raising an eyebrow. "What exactly do you expect us to offer your team? Many of them possess supernatural powers. A few are descended from literal gods."

"Well, don't be _too_ modest now. Dr. McCoy tells me you and your boys did remarkably against the evil shadow dragon lady."

"Thank you, but as I pointed out before we crossed over, that was only to keep our more powerful assets safe until we could neutralize the Heartless threat. For your average superpowered threat, why would you choose us over your Superman or your Captain Marvel?"

"That is an excellent question which _you_ are going to answer." Stark snapped his fingers and pointed at Egon.

The Ghostbuster exhaled through his nose. He found Venkman's snark an invaluable weapon against mortal and supernatural foes alike. Now he felt like he was feeling all those foes' irritation at once.

At the bottom of the stairs, they reached the lab and ghost containment facility, which, with Egon and Stark inside, was nearly half full.

"I realize it's not as refined as your own facilities, but it's sufficient for us." Egon meant to acknowledge it before Stark could make a quip about it, but, once again, he anticipated it being interpreted as an apology.

"Hey," Stark shrugged. "What super-genius _didn't_ start out by tinkering with scraps in a dingy old basement?"

Egon made another nasal sigh.

"But I've gotta admit," Stark continued. "I expected a little more from over a decade of business."

"Expenses pile up," Egon explained like he was telling a child why the sky is blue.  
"As profitable as paranormal investigation and elimination are, after damages, maintenance, salary, food, electricity, therapy, car repairs, insurance, and taxes, there isn't much left over for tremendous upgrades."

He watched Stark as he eyed the ghost containment device on the wall. It was a bulky red box with a handle on each side and three buttons on top; round red and green ones and a square blue one.

Stark lifted a hand to touch it. Egon smacked it away. Stark turned to Egon with a sarcastic and accusing look.

"Don't touch that," Egon said. "That's where we keep them."

"Keep what?"

Egon hit the blue button and a speaker underneath the box crackled to life.

" _YOUR SKULL WILL BE MY CROWN, EGON SPENGLER!"_

" _YOU AND YOUR PATHETIC FRIENDS WILL BE DROWNED IN THE INFESTED SEAS OF THE DARKEST COSMOS!"_

" _I WILL RIP THE IMBECILE VENKMAN'S TONGUE FROM HIS HEAD AND HANG THE FOUR OF YOU FROM IT!"_

" _WHEN WE ESCAPE, YOU WILL FEEL EVERY MOMENT OF ANGUISH AND DECAY YOU HAVE PUT US THROUGH IN THIS BOX OF-"_

Egon released the button. He rolled his eyes at the threats and at Stark's silence.

They were all talkers until they remembered what they were dealing with.

Stark raised a finger, stroked his goatee with it, then raised it again at the containment unit.

"They're all _in_ there."

"Yes," Egon nodded. "If you need proof that it's not just a pre-recorded hoax-"

"Oh, no," Stark said with surprising urgency. "I...I can _feel_ them."

"Mm-hm."

"So they're in there and they're not getting out."

"Indeed."

"You made this in here with whatever you could get your hands on and they can't get out of it."

"My answer won't change with more specific phrasing, Mr. Stark."

At this, Stark put his hands in his pockets. For several seconds, he said nothing, his eyes locked on Egon's.

"Suppose electricity and therapy and all that stuff wasn't an issue," he finally said. "Suppose even after doing your duty as an American taxpayer, you still had plenty to build and improve your toys as much as you wanted."

"What exactly are you suggesting, Mr. Stark?" Egon folded his arms, waiting for the bribe so he could reject it and get back to work.

"Nothing," Stark shrugged. "Just tell me; what would the Ghostbusters be if it could be _exactly_ the way you wanted."

Now this was a rare commodity in New York; an interesting question.

Egon needed only a second to consider it.

"First of all, a different headquarters for each city in the country. In the _world,_ if we were allowed. And at least four teams for each one, working in six-hour shifts; morning, afternoon, evening, and night. Second; a training facility where my colleagues and I could properly educate new recruits. On the technological front, I'd have satellites which could detect any supernatural presence and pinpoint its exact source. It may take some testing, but I believe I could also make them paralyze phantoms and demons in an energy field until a team could arrive to contain them."

Stark was attentive throughout. He spoke only when he realized that Egon was finished.

"So, basically, you'd be on their asses."

"Yes," Egon replied. "I'd be on their asses," he said so in a more rigid tone than Stark had used.

Stark puts his hands in his pockets.  
"With these parts, I could make a suit with flamethrowers and flight at 100 feet. But what good is that against, say, a magical dimension-hopping dragon?"  
He took out a checkbook and a pen and jotted away.  
"They say a crappy smith blames his tools. I say a good smith deserves _better_ tools."  
He tore the cheque away, gave it to Egon, patted him on the shoulder, and strolled towards the stairs.  
"Let's see if you can prove that."

When he left, Egon glanced down at the cheque. He blinked, thinking at first that he was seeing double or triple as many zeroes as there really were. He blinked again, thinking that he must be dreaming.

He had calls to make. He had to call his colleagues, the bank, the city council, and the local Chinese restaurant.

 **V**

"Devil May Cry, demonic exterminations and armory. Ashley Williams speaking."

Ash would normally consider it unprofessional to answer the phone while a customer was sitting at his desk. This man, however, was taking so long to fumble for his resume in his blood-red costume (which had a similarly bloody stench to it) that Ash thought he could get away with it just this once.

"I'm afraid all contracts are final after signing," Ash responded the agitated grunts from the phone.  
"I _know_ there are exorcists that do it for free. But they deal with possessions by minor demons, not 50-foot-tall monsters like that frost giant you had chilling out in your stadium...Yes, Ghostbusters are cheaper, but they charge a distance fee if you're outside New York. Would actually make it _higher_ than us...Well, if you'd like a refund, we can just do a quick resurrection ritual on Frosty...Yeah, I've already got the star painted and a sheep and some heavy metal ready to go...A discount? Yeah; I can just bring back a bit of him. Shall we start at the head or the feet? Hm...That's what I thought. Okay...Okay...H-...Okay...Okay. Have a devil-free day."  
Ash hung up, sighed, and returned his attention to the red-suited man.

The man finally yanked a folded sheet of paper from under the top of his costume. He handed it to Ash with an embarrassed smirk.

His burned skin made Ash dread the pepperoni pizzas that Dante had ordered.

Ash unfolded the paper. It was written in crayon. _Resume_ was written at the top in pink.

"Wade Wilson," Ash read aloud. "Preferred name: Deadpool. Also OK: DP, the Poolster, Poolie, Deadsy McPoolston, Spider-Man, Green Lantern, Ryan Gosling, Ryan Guzzling, the _Notebook_ guy.  
"Experience: Canadian military, Weapon X, on-and-off member of X-Force, Thunderbolts, X-Men kind-of-but-not-really, President of _Golden Girls_ fan club from '92 to '96.  
"Qualities: skilled in all sorts of close and long-range weapons, razor sharp wit, and...Devastatingly sexy."

Ash's eyes rolled up at Wade Wilson, whose awkward smile seemed burned onto his face.

"References: Cable; badass, time-traveling frenemy, and Goonie. Domino; super-lucky fellow X-Force member. Weasel; bestie, techie, and recovering alcoholic. P.S., by recovering I mean from a hangover."

Ash eyed Wilson again, feeling like he was reliving his elementary school days from his teachers' perspective.

"You forgot to add their contact info."

"I put it in the new one," Wilson shrugged in a way that looked like he was trying to bury his neck in his shoulders.  
"Was in a rush on my way out. Must've grabbed the wrong one. But hey, this fanboy's _bound_ to convolute a way for you to meet any one of those guys sooner or later. You can just ask 'em then about how kickass I am."

Ash squinted at Wilson. "The hell…" He stood up, pointing a metal finger at the smirking burned face.  
"Listen 'ere, crispy! This ain't a friggin' after-school club! We're supplyin' a service here! We've got enough to deal with without babysittin' some thirty-something nutball runnin' around with crayon drawings and ninja swords-"

"Woah, woah, Ashley Jay…"

Ash turned around to find Dante strolling in from the back room. A magazine featuring an excited blonde woman holding up a bazooka was tucked under his arm. The title was hidden under Dante's arm, so Ash couldn't tell if the focus was meant to be the blonde or the bazooka.

"What's this guy doin' that's got my new partner so riled up?"

"Just looking for work," Wilson said. "And this seemed to be the place for wisecracking, gun-toting anti-heroes with cult fanbases. Plus, looks like I got to ya right between _3_ and _4,_ which is where all the best hack-and-slash action happens."

"See, Dante?" Ash said. "And he comes in here with this so-called resume that oughtta be on his mom's fridge!"

"What do you mean between 3 and 4?" Dante asked, leaning on the side of the desk. He raised an eyebrow but kept his calm smirk.

"This is right before you pick up that weird coin motif, isn't it?" Wilson replied.

Dante shook his head. "Alright; craziness aside, how are you against a demon?"

"I can kick any ass you want. Or _I_ want." Wilson stood up and threw an arm over Dante's shoulders.  
"But that's not the point. The point is that you, me, and Bruce Campbell have been brought together for one reason."  
He paused, completely ignorant of Ash's squinting, bemused stare.  
"Fanservice! Look, I know you've got this whole middle-class-working-grind metaphor going on, plus a little PTSD on the side, but all that's really just bonus. The _main_ thing we're here for is wacky team-ups that will never _really_ happen until we all go public domain in a few trillion years."

"What the f-" Ash muttered.

"You make a good point," Dante patted Wilson on the back. "Mr. Williams and I will discuss it and get back to you."

"You sure? Because I think people could go for a nice giant monster fight right now."

"I'm sure they can." Dante stood up, guiding Wilson across the barren grey lobby to the door.  
"And I consider myself an entertainer. And as an entertainer, I believe that it's best not to blow the star performance on the warm-up."

"Ah. Right," Wilson nodded. "Save it for the finale. Probably for the best. Don't wanna pump out obligatory testosterone as desperately as Dwayne Johnson."

"You got it." Dante snapped his fingers. "So we'll be in touch as soon as the time is right."

He opened the door and Wilson seemed to be pulled outside. Dante shut the door softly but urgently. He turned and smiled at Ash's bewildered expression.

"You're not _actually_ going to hire that guy, are you?"

"No," Dante answered as he strolled back to the desk. "But I think he could be helpful on a freelance basis."

"What gives you that idea? The guy can't even write a resume. Put him up against the kinda uglies _we_ tango with, best he could do is _annoy_ them to death!"

"You never know," Dante shrugged, sinking into Wilson's former seat. "But I _do_ know that sometimes you gotta out-crazy the crazies to beat 'em."

Ash opened his mouth to respond, then shut it nodded. He looked down at his metal fingers strumming the wooden desk as Dante's words echoed in his mind.

For a second, he felt dirt at his back and ashes at his front. The words still echoed.

The bell rung. Dante and Ash turned to the door and found Wilson returning with two flat boxes.

"Here's your pizzas. Sorry if they're a little cold. And smushed. And covered in poodle hairs. And half-eaten."

 **VI**

Though the Batcave was cold and damp, its arrangements and artifacts felt as inviting as the TARDIS'.

The Doctor particularly liked the giant penny at the far west side, although he could not see any practical purpose for it. That may have been why he liked it.

"He might've let you in if you just asked," Jones said.

"Are you certain it's wise to invade the privacy of our newfound ally, Doctor?" Nanaki asked.

"Possibly," the Doctor spun into the revolving chair facing the Batcomputer as if it belonged to him. For the next few minutes, it would.  
"Or it may turn out to be merely a childish suspicion."

"And you would risk these people's trust for a childish suspicion?" Leia responded.

The Doctor looked at his companions' reflections on the screen. They were arranged in front of the TARDIS in such a way that he felt inspired to paint them. Leia, Han, Drake, and Nanaki looked impatient. Luke, Cloud, Jones, and Croft looked skeptical. Romana, as always, was the only one who understood.

"There may be more at risk than you think, Chancellor," the Doctor said.

"You just wanna see if he's got any dirty pictures saved on there, don't ya?" Drake cracked.

The Doctor scoffed.

As he expected, the computer demanded a password.

At this, the Doctor's mind flooded with memories. He knew they were not his own, but he could see them as vividly as the face of his granddaughter or the burned orange skies of Gallifrey.

He could remember running from a boulder in a decaying temple, surfing many times over the sparkling Hawaiian waters, and crafting a prosthetic hand in a medieval smith's shop. He recalled inventing the flux capacitor, the proton beam, the Pym particle, several dozen suits of armor, and a coffin-sled. In his mind's eye, he was being stabbed by his brother, dismembered by his father, threatened by his deputies, and throwing his only friend into space.

Each image, especially the tragic ones, was terribly interesting.

They had been drifting through his brain since his 'heart' had been restored. He wondered if the others could see them, too. He figured that they must, but perhaps they only couldn't see them as clearly.

Advantages of being a Time Lord. Or perhaps only of being extremely clever.

One, in particular, caught the Doctor's attention at this moment. He remembered watching his mother and father being shot in an alleyway like rabid animals.

Such a senseless waste of life. It angered the Doctor, but he was surprised at just how much it angered him.

Instinctively, he knew that the password had something to do with this memory.

Pearls splashed in a puddle of rainwater.

The gun was a .49 caliber Smith & Wesson.

The murderer said something about dancing with the devil in the pale moonlight.

 _Pearls. Rain. Smith &Wesson. Moonlight._

All possible, but the Doctor was doubtful. If he were this Batman fellow, he wouldn't have chosen such a predictably trivial aspect of this memory.

He remembered harder. He remembered clearer.

In the reddening puddle between the scattered pearls, the Doctor recalled the reflection of a cinema banner.

 _The Mark of Zorro._

Good film. Rivaled only by the 2367 remake.

The Doctor typed it in. He grinned as the screen bid him welcome.

"How did you know that?" Cloud asked.

"You _all_ know it," the Doctor smiled at him over his shoulder. "If you only think clearly enough."

He returned to the screen, where hundreds of files were lined up for him like soldiers. One cried out to him; _Rainy Days._ The Doctor opened it and was met with another squadron of files. The first was marked, _Last Son._ He opened it and was met with a familiar and triumphant red letter _S._

"Hey, that's one of the super-people who jumped in to help us against dragon-lady," Han said.

"Which makes it _very_ interesting that a good friend of his would have developed a strategy against him," the Doctor chirped.

"What?"

The Doctor's companions were suddenly surrounding him, locked onto the screen.

" _A sample of green Kryptonite,"_ Romana read aloud. " _Provided by Superman himself, will incapacitate him with brief exposure. Prolonged exposure will, in all probability, be fatal..._ It is rather strange to keep things that you know could kill your own friends, isn't it?"

"Indeed," the Doctor replied. "But strange people are often the most interesting, I find."

He looked to the bottom of the page, where the most recent files were.

 _Starkiller. Kingbreaker. Yamato. Bankruptcy. Chocolate Cake. Lightning Storm. Firefighter. Sephiroth. Wise Monkeys. Venom. Sabretooth. Sundance. Boxing Day. Tortoise. Kronos. Memphis. Bottle. Atilla. Lazarus._

The Doctor clicked on the last one and read aloud.

" _Even after sharing the Heartless' hive mind with the Doctor and Romana, there is still so much I don't know or understand about them. What I do know is that they possess some psychic abilities, a machine capable of both space and time travel, and the ability to heal fatal wounds at the cost of physical and mental change. The last of these offers the most promising chance at defeating them thus far. Must investigate chemicals that can either negate the regeneration entirely or manipulate it to cause effects such as amnesia."  
_ The Doctor laughed.  
"With twentieth century Earth technology? Well, we would all be _most_ impressed if you did, Bruce, m'dear."

He stood up, took his sonic screwdriver from his pocket, and aimed it at the Batcomputer. After a two-second-long whirr, the screen reverted to its original state and the screwdriver felt ever so slightly heavier.

"We can study the rest in the TARDIS."

"This doesn't make sense," Luke said. "We fought together to stop Maleficent. Why would he make plans to defeat us?"

"I don't believe Bruce plans to act on them without good reason," the Doctor replied. "It seems he's only developing them in case any of his new or old friends turned against him. Say, for instance, an evil sorceress stole their hearts and turned them into her own mindless minions?"

"He'd betray his friends' trust just to be a step ahead of a threat that might not come?" Croft questioned.

"Oh, it _will_ come," the Doctor said, going to open the TARDIS doors. "Not today or tomorrow or even in ten years. But if it happened once, then it must certainly happen again. And when it does, I think we shall all be quite thankful for Bruce's foresight. Those of us who aren't a part of the threat in question, of course."

His companions turned back to the Batcave, looking around it with unease. The Doctor thought they might be waiting for the Batman himself to pounce at them.

"Seems the very idea has them shaking in their boots," Romana whispered.

"Well, in their defense," the Doctor shrugged. "They're still shaking off a rather unpleasant experience." He snapped his fingers twice, earning his companions' attention back.  
"Come along, now. Back to Coruscant. Poor C-3PO must be rusting with worry for you."

 **VII**

"Trust me, Bats," John Constantine said, tutting the fingers of his left hand and lighting his cigarette with his right.  
"This'll be right up your street."

As Constantine, Zatanna, and Dr. Stephen Strange waved their hands in ways that Batman could never understand, the caped crusader wondered what Constantine meant.

He did not like seeing the Joker or the Scarecrow at the best of times, let alone unconscious on the floor beside the Green Goblin, Vergil, Boba Fett, the Master, and Zim. They were lain neatly inside what Batman assumed was the Sanctum Sanctorum's broom closet.

Their faces (Fett's was now that of a bald woman with blood red skin and pointed ears.) were fixated with looks of sadness and disgust that was familiar to Bruce. He thought it might be the same face with which he had looked at his parents' bodies in Crime Alley a lifetime ago.

He stopped thinking about it.

The three sorcerers stopped their ritual. Their smiles faded to looks of bemusement.

Batman turned and was met with the scornful yellow teeth of the Joker's grin.

He was holding two fingers above Bruce's head.

Bruce instinctively put his fists up. The Joker stepped back, revealing a body devoid of its usual color. He was a dark white. Bruce looked at his eyes and saw the gothic crimson foyer of the Sanctum.

The Joker threw his head back and cackled. Bruce heard nothing.

Batman looked around. The Green Goblin was screaming into Strange's face. Fett's grasping hands went harmlessly through Zatanna's neck. Zim reached into Constantine's chest, brought his fist out, then gaped at his empty palm.

Behind the Joker, Vergil, the Master, and the Scarecrow scowled at him.

"The good doctor is versed in the art of astral magic," Zatanna said.

"I don't know what that is," Batman responded, turning to the sorcerers, who seemed amused with the spirits' fruitless attacks.  
"More importantly, what have you _done_ to them?!"

"It's magic that pulls a soul out of a body," Constantine explained. "Always found it a bit incidental m'self."

"But by combining our powers," Strange added. "We were able to lock these cretins' astral forms out of their bodies. They can only wander the Sanctum and they can go seen or unseen as one wishes."

"Why can't they speak?" Bruce questioned.

"A little touch of my own," Zatanna chirped with a tip of her top hat. "They can speak. It's just that we can't hear them. And that works both ways."

"You wanted this lot where not even Maleficent could get to 'em," Constantine said. "How'd we do?"

Bruce looked between all of them again. He kept gravitating back to the Joker, laughing for the world and for every world beyond the cosmos and being totally ignored.

It was something which Bruce had dreamed about. Yet it didn't satisfy him. It saddened him.

"You can just do this to someone?" He asked the sorcerers. He kept focused on the Joker.

"It requires a significant amount of magic to do so to even _one_ person," Strange answered. "But yes; together, we could."

"So what use is prison?" Bruce growled. "You can just remove people from existence if you felt like it."

"Hey, we wouldn't do this to just _anyone,_ Bats," Zatanna retorted. "We only did this because you _specifically_ asked for something just in case they changed back into Heartless."

"And I don't think the question is if _we_ feel like it, mate," Constantine said. He had a puff before continuing.  
"If you've got anyone in mind, just say the word."

Batman glared at Constantine's stubbled smirk. It was the kind of smile which one makes when they draw a royal flush. Bruce was familiar with it on Constantine. He was not so familiar with the feeling of being on its receiving end.

At the very least, he had been torn away from the Joker.

The Sanctum shook. Vases and picture frames fell from their shelves and wall spaces, halted in midair, and then neatly replaced themselves.

"Aw, bloody 'ell," Constantine sighed. "No rest for the wicked, eh?"

They dashed for the front door. Batman arrived first and flung it open.

Bleecker Street had gone up in flames.

 **VIII**

"Chuck Berry; _Johnny B. Goode."_

"Okitaka."

"Huey Lewis and the News; _Power of Love._ "

"Ooh. Sound good."

"And...One more...Right! The Penguins; _Earth Angel."_

 _Err-Thane-Gel._

"Mm. Like my Alien Angel." Stitch jotted away on his notepad, his black eyes glimmering and his feet rocking in their prints in the sand.

Marty leaned against the driver's side of the Delorean, trying to focus on the world in front of him. He tried to focus on the lingering rush of his performance, the way Stitch and his cousins had clapped on precisely the right beats, and the resounding cheers and applause that had ensued.

"Any more, Marty?"

He tried his hardest, but still felt a suffocating chill and heard a maddening symphony of noise, headed by a childish, mechanical singing voice.

 _I'm just a fool. A fool in love with you-ooo-ooooooooooooooo…_

"Marty?"

Marty jolted. For a split second, he saw a black-furred monstrosity grinning at him with yellow teeth. He blinked and color was restored to Stitch and his pearly whites.

"You okay?" Stitch tilted his head.

"Yeah. Fine," Marty muttered.

"Maleficent?"

Marty looked at Stitch. His smile had faded. Marty had a strange feeling like he was looking in a mirror.

"I still feel her, too," Stitch continued. "Feels cold, right?"

"...Yeah," Marty said. "Freezing...Even in a place like this," he gave a feeble chuckle, earning the faintest and most short-lived of smiles from Stitch.  
"I think...I think the worst of it knowing that when I-when _we_ were with her...We _liked_ feeling that way. And…"

He concluded with a sigh.

"And we think that way better," Stitch added. He hopped onto the window of the Delorean, his feet sticking to the glass as he knelt into a sitting position.  
"Cousins think lots while flying. We think everyone has lots of people inside. Some Heartless. Some not. You get to choose. I can be Heartless Stitch. I can be good, cute, and fluffy Stitch. You can be Heartless Marty. You can be good, cool, awesome-guitar-player Marty."

Marty had to smile at this.

"We can always choose," Stitch continued. "Is okay to have Heartless inside. Okay if you want to be something else...But I am happy that you are cool, awesome-guitar-player Marty. And I am happy that cool, awesome-guitar-player Marty is my friend."

Marty's smile grew. He still felt cold, but he had become more aware of the cozy Hawaiian heat.

Stitch grinned. "You want hug. I can tell." He held his arms out.

Marty chuckled. "We can add mind-reading to your list of superpowers." He scooped Stitch up, scratching behind his ears just the way Einie liked back in 1986.  
"I'm happy that you're my friend, too."

Stitch purred. After a few moments, he said, "You found my favorite spot."

Soon, Marty set Stitch down, feeling much warmer.

"Alright, Doc," he said. "I think it's time to go back to the past."

"Absolutely," Doc declared. He swung open the passenger door as Marty opened the driver's.  
"Thank you immensely for your hospitality," Doc said, waving to the Pelekai family gathered beside the Delorean.  
"We wish you the best in all your future endeavors."

"And hey," Marty added, giving them a pointing salute. "I'm 28 somewhere out there. Feel free to visit anytime."

They climbed in, pulling the doors shut and watching the Pelekais wave goodbye.

Marty had a wonderful feeling bouncing in his gut. He had felt it only twice before; when bidding farewell to his teenage parents in 1955, and when Doc returned to 1985 in his time-traveling steam train.

He felt Doc's hand on his shoulder.

"You sure you're alright to drive, Marty?"

Marty smiled at him.

"Never felt better, Doc."

Doc smiled back.

"Now," Marty started the engine, switched on the time circuits, and punched in; _Sunday, November 2nd, 1986, 5:00 AM._ The Delorean's beeping and whirring chimed up like the voice of an old friend. _  
_"Let's give our fantastic audience an encore!"

He brought the Delorean off the sand, turned it towards the sea, and accelerated. The shimmering water leaped behind the time machine. Marty turned, gaining altitude as he did, and accelerated, bringing the speedometer closer and closer to 88.

As a barrier of sputtering blue energy coated the Delorean, Marty had one last look through the window at his new friends, who applauded as the time machine grew brighter and brighter.

Marty only wished he could see their faces at the twin streaks of flame coloring the perfectly blue Hawaiian sky.

 _ **ASSEMBLE,**_ **featuring** _ **Marvel, DC, Ghostbusters, Evil Dead, Devil May Cry, Star Wars, Doctor Who, Invader Zim, Indiana Jones, Tomb Raider, Uncharted, Back to the Future, Final Fantasy VII, Aladdin, The Nightmare Before Christmas, Toy Story, Mulan, Lilo & Stitch, The Incredibles, **_**and** _ **Zootopia**_

 **Season 2, Episode 1** (9 overall)

 **NEXT TIME ON** _ **JUSTICE LEAGUE INFINITE!**_

The Beast has come to New York, and the only force standing in its way is the League, with some help from a band of ninjas from deep within New York!


	12. S2E2: Beast

**Season 2, Episode 2:**

 _ **Beast**_

 **I**

The Beast didn't know where he was.

It was similar to where he had been just before the lightning struck him, but the differences were glaring. The buildings were upright and complete. Instead of dead soldiers, he was surrounded by fleeing civilians.

The most infuriating difference was that, instead of Kuo, Delsin, and a hundred other Conduits following him, there was jack shit.

That made the Beast angry. And whenever the Beast was angry, he made sure everybody and everything around him knew it.

" _Alright!"_ He roared at the street, lit up in crimson as his body erupted with flame.  
" _Where's the wiseass that brought me here?! Come on out! I'll burn down this whole city to find you if I have to!"_

"Bit of an extreme solution there, mate." A cocky voice called from behind the Beast.

He turned and found a blonde man in a wrinkled white shirt, a loose red tie, and a rugged brown coat. The man looked like a slob, but probably thought he looked dashing. He lifted a cigarette to the sky, where a lick from the Beast's expanding flame lit it up.

"Burn down the house to kill the rat," the man continued, taking a puff. "Just like my gran."

Before the Beast could incinerate the idiot, there was another voice.

" _Ekam ti niar!"_

He spun around, finding a woman dressed as a show magician, complete with a top hat.

He felt a drop of rain hit his scalp.

A moment later, it was coming down in buckets. Fire became steam.

The Beast hacked as he tried to revive his flames. He managed a few orange streaks, but they were almost immediately reduced to smoke. Seconds later, he could barely even ignite his fingertips.

"Damn you," He growled, looking down at his steaming hands. Past them, a puddle had formed, taunting him with his reflection.

The Beast, the leader of the next stage of humanity's evolution, reduced to just another punk by bad weather. The sight of it was more infuriating than the disabling of his powers.

"Now that you've cooled off…" A third voice, the deep one of a pretentious professor, said from above the Beast.

He looked up and found a man with a black goatee wearing a scarlet cloak floating several feet above him. He looked down at the Beast.

"Perhaps we can discuss your predicament in a more civilized manner."

The Beast clenched his fists. He wanted to burn the man and his friends and their entire city to the ground.

"Alright," he growled. "Talk."

He itched for it.

 **II**

Cole MacGrath didn't know where he was.

" _Guys...waking…"_

He could barely even remember where had been.

" _...Way...lightning…"_

He remembered being on a rooftop with Trish and Zeke, popping open some beers and toasting.

" _Hold...Gonna do…"_

But the memory felt distant. It felt unreal.

" _...Bro...Could happen…"_

As he stirred awake, he came to a crushing realization that he was too familiar with.

" _Never...Careful…"_

The wonderful memory that was clear in his mind was a dream.

" _...Electric…"_

And he was about to be reminded of just how shitty real life was.

" _Wakey-wakey, lightning-dude!"_

His eyes snapped open. Four green-skinned monsters were staring at him.

Cole thought he would be scared. He was only annoyed.

"Come on, guys," he sighed, flexing his fingers to get some good sparks flowing through them.  
"It's too early for this shit."

" _Woah, woah, relax, man!"_ One of the monsters exclaimed, stepping away from the bed.  
"We're good guys! You're a good guy, too, right? I guess if you're not, then that's the right reaction. But I've got a good feeling about you!"

Cole blinked, wondering what was stranger about the monster; that he could speak or that he sounded like he should be skateboarding to high school with a boombox over his shoulder.

"Yeah…" He said, slowly getting up but keeping his hands electrified just in case.  
"Yeah, I'm a good guy."

He glanced around the room. It was some kind of bunker. He spotted a ragged couch, a skateboard, an old TV, and a table cluttered with old gadgets and tools. The place had a damp stench which Cole had gotten used to ages ago.

He also got a better look at the monsters. They had shells on their backs; they were some kind of freakish half-human, half-turtle hybrids. They each wore a colored mask over their eyes; the skater-voiced one had orange, the others had red, blue, and purple.

"What's with the masks?" Cole asked, now fully upright. "Hate to break it to ya, but they're not exactly keeping your identities a secret."

"You're one to talk," the red-masked one snapped in one of the harshest Brooklyn accents Cole had ever heard.  
"Hours spent on the superhero costume drawing board, all you can get out is a yellow t-shirt and sweatpants?"

Cole focused on him; a five-foot-tall human turtle in a mask barking at him like a burly bargoer.

He laughed.

"Okay, okay…" He looked back at the turtles, who were looking at him like he was the weirdest thing in the room. They were also reaching for their weapons, holstered on either their hips or shell; swords, staffs, sai, and nunchucks.  
Cole tried not to laugh again.  
"You guys seem alright...Why don't ya tell me what's goin' on?"

 **III**

The rain avoided the Beast's teacup.

The three magicians and their friend in the stupid bat costume had brought him into this invisible mansion. It was cozier than any building the Beast had entered since the Blast. The chair they sat him in was more comfortable than any he had sat in since even before the Blast. The tea was richer and much more satisfying than even a hundred boxes of rations. And the rain cloud centered exclusively on him chucked down harder than any military force that had ever dared to open fire on him.

The Beast understood that these people wouldn't risk him burning the place down, but they didn't have to be so goddamn condescending about it.

"Is the rain really necessary?" He growled at his hosts, who, save for the bat guy, who stood, sat in their own armchairs encircling the center of the glimmering orange room.

"Well," Zatanna said, "you _did_ come in with threats of burning the city down, so maybe you can see our conundrum; thousands of lives or good manners."

"Then why don't you just kill me? Less trouble for everyone."

"Because there may be a more pleasant solution," Strange answered. "It seems you were displaced by an unknown force. We're considering helping you find it if you're willing to cooperate, then we may be able to find a means of sending you home."

"What do you mean home? _Everywhere's_ my home!"

"That's just the trouble, beastie," Constantine replied. "You're not _in_ your everywhere."

The Beast itched.

"...You guys better start makin' sense."

"It appears to us," Strange said. "That you're from another world."

"Another world," the Beast grunted. "What gives you that idea?"

"We're sorcerers, mate," Constantine answered. "We can _smell_ the otherworldliness on ya, no matter how much smoke and swamp water and God-knows-what-else ya try to hide it with."

"So you were in your own world," Zatanna continued. "And something brought you into this one. But we may be able to send you back."

"What's with all the maybe?" The Beast snarled. "There a power cap for you sorcerers?"

"We have to decide if we _should_ send you back," the bat guy said, approaching the Beast. Something about his deep voice brought back memories of the Beast's repulsive father.  
"Appearing in a raging inferno and endangering innocent lives doesn't make a great first impression. If it were up to me alone, you'd be locked up in Arkham in a cell with continuous sprinklers by now. But the doctor, Zatanna, and John insisted that we give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you're just a victim of bad timing."

"Maybe," the Beast scoffed. "How d'ya plan on findin' out?"

"Like this…" Zatanna pulled a black stick out of her sleeve and pointed it at the Beast. She did so with a flamboyant wave of her arm that inflamed the Beast's itch.  
" _Llet su eht hturt."_

The Beast felt something tingle in his throat. It was similar to the rush he got when he learned a new power. This, however, was much smaller and even less welcoming; it was power, but one that wasn't there to help him.

"Now…" the bat guy stood over the Beast now, millimeters away from the rain.

The itch was unbearable.

"Tell us who you are."

 **IV**

As the turtles recapped Cole, their sensei entered.

He was an elderly humanoid rat named Master Splinter.

He had named his "sons" after Renaissance artists.

Michelangelo had an orange mask and nunchucks.

Raphael had a red mask and twin sais.

Donatello had a purple mask and a staff.

Leonardo had a blue mask and two katanas.

By then, Cole was ready for the weirdness to hit the brakes.

It hit the gas.

"We'd just got done trashin' our buddy Baxter Stockman's party," Raphael said, punching the air in front of him.

"When we saw a tremendous lightning bolt strike at the docks a few blocks away," Donatello explained.

"We ran over to investigate and to make sure nobody was hurt," Leonardo added.

"That's where we found _you_ , dude!" Michelangelo threw an arm over Cole's shoulders.  
"You were all electrified and stuff! Donnie needed to get us all rubber gloves so we could carry ya back here!"

"You slept for many hours," Splinter said. "I sensed that you had endured a long and vicious battle."

"Right," Cole said. "...Do you guys know who I am?"

"Uh…Who was that guy on TV the other day?" Michelangelo pressed his fists against his temples.  
" _Electro!"_

"No," Cole replied. "I mean...Empire City? Conduits? Kessler? The Beast? Ringin' any bells?"

"Not in this chapel," Raphael shrugged.

" _Of course!"_ Donatello snapped two of his three fingers. "An alternate dimension!"

"...Come again?" Cole said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, we get an alternate dimension case every other month or so," Donatello nodded, far more excited than Cole thought he had any right to be.  
"You appear in a giant beam of energy. You remember things that don't exist here. Most likely explanation is that you're a hero from another dimension who's been flung into this one!"

"...You know what?" Cole threw his hands up. "With how today's turnin' out, that wouldn't even surprise me. What _I_ wanna know is _why? How?_ "

"Those are, uh, very good questions," Donatello muttered, his excitement devolving into uncertainty.

"When looking for answers," Splinter said, stroking his whiskers. "One must first consider where they can be found."

Cole thought. His eyes wandered over to the extremely outdated TV.

"You said there was a giant bolt of lightning?" He asked.

"Yeah, man," Michelangelo answered. " _Colossal_ sized!"

"Probably made a lotta noise, huh?" Cole found the remote sticking up from between the sofa cushions. He grabbed it and switched the TV on.  
"Betcha the reporters are already on it. Don't know if they're full 'a shit here than where _I_ come from, but it's a start."

"Yeah, man," Michelangelo cheered. "Watchin' TV solves everything!"

Cole flipped through the channels. Each change seemed a struggle for the TV as it fought off hordes of static. As he glimpsed at each trivial program, Cole gathered that, contrary to what the mutated turtle ninjas and their rodent master would have him believe, this world was _not_ a nuclear wasteland populated by human-animal hybrids. It seemed normal. Pre-Blast normal.

Cole never thought he would see anything like it again.

He found the news station. There was no footage of giant lightning bolt, but there was a cloud of fire which, according to the reporter, had suddenly exploded onto Bleecker Street.

At its center was a human silhouette.

"No," Cole gasped. "No…"

"What is it?" Leonardo asked. "Is that an enemy of yours?"

"Yeah...But he was a literal _giant_ the last time I fought him." As Cole spoke, a memory crept into his mind. It gave him a feeling infinitely worse than when he woke up.

The footage continued; a sudden torrent of rainfall put the raging inferno out. As the smoke lifted, the silhouetted figure was revealed.

Cole MacGrath had faced the military, monsters, super-powered psychopaths, and a fiery giant that could decimate entire cities with a single blow. The man standing in the smoke was the most terrifying thing he had ever seen.

"Hey," Raphael said. "That guy's your spittin' image."

"Ooh. You've got an evil twin?" Michelangelo asked with child-like excitement.

"No," Cole said. "Well, I _did_ once fight my time-traveling future self-"

"Awesome," Michelangelo responded.

"And extremely harmful to the space-time continuum," Donatello added.

"But this is different," Cole continued. "He looks like he's the same age as me...You, uh...Don; you said something about other dimensions."

"Yes, I did."

"So is it possible that every dimension has its own Cole MacGrath?"

"Well, not _every_ dimension. According to the many-worlds theory, there _must_ be somewhere you or even your parents were never born-"

"Cut to the chase, bro," Raphael snapped. "He's askin' if this guy's him from another Earth."

"Oh," Donatello looked disappointed. "Then yes. Almost certainly."

"So how come two of you are here?" Leonardo asked. "One good, one bad, and both arriving at the same time?"

"Don't know," Cole said. Then, even with the horrible realization chewing on his mind, he managed a smirk.  
"Why don't we go ask _him?"_

 **V**

" _Ouy tonnac raeh su."_

The Beast had barely finished his story when Zatanna interrupted him.

Technically, the strange feeling in his throat had done the blabbing, while the Beast himself couldn't do anything else no matter how desperately he tried.

Just as the thing in his throat was rounding out the part about recruiting Conduits to eliminate the outdated parts of humanity, Zatanna said some more magical gibberish.

The magicians and their bat friend whispered. At least, the Beast thought that they were whispering until he wondered why they would do so with five feet of space between each of them.

He could still hear the rain crashing against him.

"This some magical bullshit that makes me deaf exclusively to you?" He spat.

Constantine looked at him, brought a finger to his lips, then returned to the muted discussion.

The Beast didn't need to hear them to know that they were sentencing him.

Still, he was confused. He couldn't tell for sure if these people were Conduits, but they had power, and that was good enough. Why were they so intimidated by his plan which would benefit them?

He looked at their bat friend. The Beast finally figured him out. The ridiculous costume. The fact that he was the only one who hadn't done any magic yet.

He didn't have any power. Yet there he was, pretending that he did. Around actual wizards.

He was worse than an outdated human. He was a wannabe Conduit. And the magicians tolerated him.

The wizards surrounded him now. Strange and Zatanna glared down at him. Constantine grinned.

"You guys haven't been paying attention."

The Beast unleashed an electric shockwave at the magicians. His rain-soaked body erupted with pain. He hated it, but not nearly as much as the three idiots and their pet.

Not even close.

He could only see red, but he felt the rain finally let up. The moment it did, he lit up. Nice and toasty.

"You got from my story that I can also control electricity," he said, standing up. "You should've also got that I don't go down so easily."

His vision faded back. He found all of the magicians' weird furniture darting back to their proper places. The magicians themselves were splayed on the floor before him. Straight ahead, the bat hid behind his cape like goddamn Dracula.

"I did," the bat growled.

The Beast's itch inflamed.

"Alright, bat boy. You want power? _I'll_ show ya _real_ power!"

 **VI**

"Ya sure ya don't wanna ride inside, dude?!" Mikey shouted from the shotgun seat. "We got room!"

"Thanks, man!" Cole called from the roof. "But I'd hate to blow up your kickass van!"

The drive to Bleecker Street some much-needed relief. Despite how terrifying today had been so far, he had to love that he was riding on top of a decked-out spy van being driven by ninja turtle-people.

If only Zeke could see him now.

Donatello's driving was astounding. He maneuvered the bulky, shell-patterned vehicle through the bustling New York traffic as efficiently as if it were a motorcycle.

The rush stuck with Cole as they pulled up to the sidewalk on Bleecker Street.

The first thing that stood out to him was the decaying corpse of an abandoned building between the decently-maintained numbers 175 and 179.

"Right…" Cole dropped down while the turtles hopped out of the van.  
"Let's see where my twin ran off to." He turned to the turtles. "...Are you guys serious?"

"What?" Leonardo asked as he and his brothers buttoned up their brown trenchcoats and donned their fedoras.

"You give me hell for the way _I_ dress, but you guys are here looking like two kids standing on each other's shoulders trying to buy beer."

"At least it keeps our faces hidden," Raphael retorted.

"Yeah, but not your weird turtle feet."

"Okay, _now_ you're just being rude."

Cole slid a hand down his face. He felt bad.

He was about to apologize when he felt a blast of burning-hot wind behind him.

He darted around, lighting up his hands. He heard trenchcoats flapping and blades unsheathing beside him.

A streak of flame rocketed from the abandoned building, becoming a human-sized fire in the middle of the road. Cars screeched to a halt before it. Terrified beeps harmonized with the roaring flame.

Cole thrust his palms forwards, sending a ray of ice to diminish the flames. In the same instinctive reaction, he roared at the source of the flame.

" _Cole!"_

He charged forward, increasing the output of ice until the street was fogged in white. He couldn't see his twin. He didn't want to see him. At the same time, he wanted to just to get this agonizing terror out of his heart.

"Wow," Michelangelo said. "Now _that's_ cool. Pun _absolutely_ intended!"

Cole stopped when he was right beside the source of the fire, which was now nothing more than a minor warmth in the frosty air.

The fog dissipated. On the ground, Cole found some guy in a bat-themed costume struggling to his knees. Right in front of him, he found his own red reflection.

"I'm gettin' sick of this magic crap," the other Cole snarled.

He threw a flaming fist at Cole, who was quick to block with an icy palm.

Cole was possessed by a discomforting and peculiar sensation. He felt like he was in front of a funhouse mirror, looking at something that was almost but quite him. Simultaneously, even though he knew he was battling a new version of the Beast, he felt like he was with Trish. His heart pounded the way it always did when he was with someone he knew so deeply and intimately.

The Beast roared and charged more fire into his fist. Cole realized that this wasn't how he felt when he was Trish. This was how he felt as Trish died in his arms.

"Take a page from your twin's book, dude!"

Cole ducked. Michelangelo leaped over him, shooting his heel into the Beast's chin.

" _Chill out!"_

The Beast fell backward, right into the path of the recovering bat-costumed guy's uppercut. He came back for an icy right hook from Cole. Then Raphael rolled into the fray, stopping on one knee and burying both of his sai in the Beast's gut.

The Beast, still smoking, froze. His teeth were black with blood.

Cole noticed the bat-guy glaring at him and Raphael.

The turtle yanked his blades out of the Beast, who nearly fell but kept his stance.

"C'mon, man," Raphael grunted as he went for another stab.

The Beast seized his arms.

His body and Raphael's erupted with scarlet electricity. Raphael screamed. The Beast was silent.

Raphael's brothers and the bat-guy were petrified.

Cole knew exactly what the Beast was doing. In less than a second, he tackled his twin, freeing Raphael.

The Beast pushed against Cole, grasping him by the throat.

Cole braced himself for the Bio Leech.

"Let's talk somewhere private," the Beast growled.

He picked Cole up. He didn't use the Bio Leech, but he did something which astonished and haunted Cole just as much.

He flew.

 **VII**

Raphael felt like crap.

He lay on his shell on the pavement, watching Evil Cole flying away with Good Cole. Every bone in his body wanted to jump after them, but his muscles just couldn't be bothered.

Donnie was beside him immediately. When he spoke, the sound came from the other side of the galaxy. He looked scared. Raphael hated when Don was scared. He was a nerd, but the thing about nerds was that they were only scared when it really mattered.

He wondered why his body had stopped burning. It hadn't gone cold either. He wasn't sure what it felt like. He wasn't sure if it felt like anything.

Leo and Mikey surrounded him. Behind them, Raphael saw the bat guy looking at a screen that fit in his palm. There was a blinking red light on it; a tracking device. Raphael tried to focus on where it was pointing, hoping that Evil Cole was staying close to pick up the beating he was owed.

He tried and ended up in a world of blinking red lights.

It took about ten seconds to escape it. Or ten years. He couldn't keep track.

He returned to find two men and a woman. The woman and one of the men were dressed like they were set to perform at a kid's birthday party. The other man was dressed like the kid's alcoholic father.

Behind them, Raphael found a hooded figure standing on a rooftop. Behind the hooded figure, the moon grew to encompass the sky. Behind the moon, he saw Kraang swallowing it into his slimy pink face. Behind Kraang, a pair of yellow gloves reached for Raphael. They pulled him up without touching him. When he was upright, he could feel the foggy New York air again. There was nothing weird around him. At least, nothing weirder than three magicians and a guy in a bat costume.

"The shell was that?!" Raphael gasped.

"You nearly had your life force drained, mate," the alcoholic-dressed guy said. "We put it back in for ya. On the house."

"Life force?"

"There's a more technical way of putting it," Don responded. "But you're just gonna tell me to skip over it, aren't you?"

"Pretty much. No offense, bro." Raphael picked up his sai and leaped to his feet.  
"Now let's go drain _that_ guy's life force!"

 **VIII**

The Beast threw the imposter to the ground as he descended into Central Park. He found a perfect spot a few steps away from the lake.

Just in case.

The park's lights were off; only the Beast and the moon provided illumination, which concentrated on the imposter like interrogation lights.

"So," the Beast began. "You're this place's version of me?"

"No," the imposter coughed. "But I _am_ a _better_ version of you."

"Watch it," the Beast snapped, pointing a burning finger.

"What?" The imposter let out a hoarse laugh. "You wanna keep me alive so you can explain your evil plan?"

"I wanna see if we can work together."

"Well, that involves explaining your plan, doesn't it? Don't bother; I can guess. You wanna gather up all the other Conduits, then kill everyone else, or make them your slaves, or just generally make them let you use the planet as your personal superpower playground. That about right?" He raised his eyebrows.

The Beast itched.

"I wouldn't put it that way," he growled. "But yeah...Different guy try that in your world?"

"Nope." The imposter leaned against a tree. "But _I_ thought about it. Every time the news or the cops or the people gave me shit even after everything I did for 'em, I'd think about turning it back on 'em. If they wanted a bad guy, I could give 'em the worst guy they'd ever seen. There were times when I came real close to actually doing it...But I never did."

"Then you're weak," the Beast spat. "You have power over those people and you _still_ let them shit all over you."

The imposter looked right into his eyes.

"What happened to you?" He asked.

The Beast itched.

"I _lost_ everything, dumbass! My home! My friends! And…"

 _I hate you._

"Trish…"

 _I hate you more than anything._

"You couldn't understand…"

 _Just let me die. I don't want to look at you anymore._

"You think so?" The imposter asked, straightening up. "Because _I_ couldn't save my home. And there were lots of people _I_ couldn't save. I lost Trish...And I lost my _life!_ "

"So did I-"

" _No!"_ The imposter retorted. "I _died!"_

He stopped for a moment. The Beast's furious itching faded. He felt something as he looked at his reflection. Something he hadn't felt since before the Blast. He wasn't sure if he had ever even felt it at all.

"I died doing what I thought was right," the reflection continued, his eyes piercing through the Beast.  
"So don't think you can use your past as an excuse-"

" _I won't,"_ the Beast retorted, fighting the feeling.

"Oh, but you _will,_ Cole!" The reflection used his own name with a surprising tone of disdain.  
"You will _always_ look back on those things for permission to be an even bigger asshole than whichever asshole's screwing up your life today! You will _always_ think it's okay to do the first thing that comes into that messed-up head of yours just because somebody did something bad to you! You _can't_ do anything else, because if you could, _you would be me!"_

The Beast's itch was monstrous.

He lunged at the imposter with an inferno in each hand, hellbent on reducing him to ashes.

He hit a barrier of bright orange light.

"Let's try this again!"

The Beast turned, finding the freakish turtle things, the idiot wizards, and their bat pet charging at him. The one wielding the sai, who the Beast swore he had leeched, led the charge, coming at him with a leaping kick.

The Beast turned, sending a burning hand out to catch the turtle's foot and batter his friends with him before cremating him.

" _Ruoy smra og bmun!"_

His arms fizzled out and fell at his sides. His face became acquainted with the turtle freak's foot.

The Beast couldn't remember the last time he had been hit in the face. He had forgotten how much it hurt. And it hurt like a bitch.

He skidded across the grass, his arms powerless to stop his wipeout. He halted barely at the edge of the lake. It was then that he realized that his jaw was broken. It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would, but the sudden absence of feeling was equally harrowing.

He had barely gotten to his knees when an icy grip forced his head up. He looked up into his own face. He was gripped by a mix of internal and external hatred which only Kessler had ever made him feel. This time, however, it was more internal.

His head was freezing. He put every ounce of his being into trying to summon even a flicker of flame, but all he could think of was cold.

He thought he should feel panicked. He was only disappointed.

"Here's the deal," Cole said. "You could've spent just another moment thinking about everything you did. _I'm_ that extra moment. I'm the one who didn't have to come down to my enemies to show them that they were wrong. I died for it and I _still_ stand by it. And right now, I'm thinking about all sorts of things to do to you. I'm so close to doing them, you should be shitting yourself. But instead, I'm going to do something else."

He whispered in the Beast's ear.

All he could think of was cold.

"Now tell me again who's weak."

 **IX**

Cole grinned as he watched the spirits storm around the Sanctum Sanctorum.

A strange-looking creature with several mismatched furry body parts shouted silently from the top of the staircase.

A white-haired swordsman argued with a disfigured man in a black cloak.

A clown tugged on the Beast's ears.

The Beast shoved him away, then shot his most burning glare at Cole.

Cole smiled at him.

"You like it?" Zatanna asked.

"It's perfect," he answered. "Not as ugly as death and not as cruel as prison, but it still gets the point across. You sure he can't get out?"

"One would have to penetrate the Sanctum's defenses to even begin," Strange replied. "Now; on the matter of returning you home."

Cole looked at him. For a moment, he could feel the sea breeze coming from the docks of New Marais.

Only for a moment.

"Actually…" He said. "I was wondering...If it was alright with you guys. If it wouldn't make the universe explode or anything like that; you think I could stick around?"

"Yeah, doc!" Mikey cheered. "He could stay with us!"

"What's wrong with your own world, mate?" Constantine asked.

"Nothing," Cole responded. "...Okay, a lot. But not _nearly_ as much as beastie boy's world. But my life in my own world is over. Literally...And somebody brought me back to life and brought me _here;_ there must be a reason why. I need to find out or it'll drive me crazy for the rest of my...Second life."

"Seems reasonable enough," Constantine replied.

"Don't see why not," Zatanna added.

"I'm fine with it," Strange said. "It would likely be _more_ dangerous to return you to a world where you are supposed to be dead anyhow."

"Thanks," Cole turned to the turtles. "You guys sure you got the space?"

"Of course," Leonardo answered. "We're happy to help anyone in need."

Cole smiled at them. He smiled at the sorcerers and at the Batman. He felt something that he hadn't felt in ages.

 _I love you._

He wasn't sure if he had ever even felt it at all.

 _I love you and I love everything you've done for this city._

And yet it still felt warm and familiar.

 _Don't stop. It's going to get tougher, but please never stop._

Cole thought that it was something he had always wanted to feel.

 _Please._

He knew that the Beast didn't even know what it was.

"But before that," Michelangelo said. "I'm _starving._ Wanna go for a pizza."

"...You know what, Mike?" Cole threw an arm over his shoulder. "I haven't had a pizza since I got my powers."

" _For real?!_ How are you even _alive?!"_

 **X**

So good triumphed over evil. Isn't that interesting?

He had thought that the match would be closer. He had scrutinized every twinner of this MacGrath fellow until he had found the most identical pair. Same name, same pasts, very, very similar powers. Everything the same except that one was good and the other was evil.

And yet good still won.

He figured that it would, but he had hoped that at least a few major cities would have been burned down before then.

At the very least, it had offered him a day's entertainment.

But now it was time to get back to work.

 _ **BEAST,**_ **or** _ **DC x Marvel x inFAMOUS x Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles**_

 **Season 2, Episode 2** (10 overall)

 **NEXT TIME ON** _ **JUSTICE LEAGUE INFINITE!**_

Chell begins her new career as an officer aboard the USS _Enterprise_ under Captain Jean-Luc Picard! But what should be a peaceful introductory day is interrupted by a mysterious woman in near-indestructible power armor!


End file.
